Pridian Moon
by SalineRabbits
Summary: .:Ch 25 posted:. Crossover, Harry Potter Naruto Six months after the attack of Kyuubi, Hatake Kakashi is being hunted by a merciless traitor. In order to protect him, Sandaime is forced to send him far away, to a land of magic and wizards.
1. Chapter 1

Pridian Moon

Nearly six months after the sacrifice of the Yondaime and the sealing of the Kyuubi, the newly reinstated Sandaime of Konoha is worried. After signing a shaky treaty with its neighboring countries, Konoha is safe for the time being and finally out of wartime. How long the peace will last, no one knows, but Sandaime has a decision to make all the same. One of his best operatives is being hunted by a merciless traitor, while the shadows of his own home drive him slowly mad. Sandaime knows the only way to keep this operative safe is to send him far away, to a land of wizards and dragons and magic.  


Disclaimer: I do not own "Naruto" or anything therein. All rights belong to Masashi Kishimoto. Nor do I own Harry Potter or anything therein; all rights belong to J.K. Rowling.

Warnings: This fic contains violence, swearing, and dark themes/thoughts. If any of that offends you, do the smart thing and don't read.

Author's Note: Yep. Another Kakashi story. I'm afraid I'm rather addicted to them. Anyhow, this is a mildly AU story. It contains non-canon wars and conflicts of the Naruto-verse, and although I have attempted not to deviate dramatically from the Harry Potter canon, some changes to the plot are necessary. But I'm sure you don't mind. Finally, although this story is set in the Harry Potter world, it is primarily a Kakashi-centric fic dealing with his struggles and conflicts, however, I have attempted to balance this by not stealing center stage from Harry Potter characters where it is due. Also, beware of flagrant Kakashi-Gaiden spoilers.

Read and review, please and thank you!

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**Chapter 1: Sandaime's Request**

Albus Dumbledore smiled at the parchment in his hands, unable to conceal his delight. It had been more than a year since his old friend in the Far East had written; he was beginning to worry that he was dead, and his village destroyed. The last letter had been grim indeed, with much talk of war and killing and rumors of a deadly shadow descending upon Konoha. The aged headmaster's fingers ran across the green wax seal, inscribed with the symbol of Konoha, and he hoped that this time the news would be slightly happier. He spread the parchment out across his desk and began to read his old friend's correspondence:

_My dear friend Albus:_

_How are you? I do hope you and your most excellent school is faring well._

_My, my, it has been quite awhile, hasn't it? Has it already been so long? I'm beginning to lose track of time, I suppose. I'm getting far too old for this job. Yes, I am indeed still puttering about in this office of Hokage, my young replacement tragically met with his demise only months after taking the position. The demon Kyuubi of the Nine Tails attacked our village and my replacement gave his life in order to seal the monster inside his own newborn son. It was a catastrophe, of course, the village will take years to heal, and we have all lost a great man and an excellent Hokage._

_But alas. I've already gotten off topic. You'll be happy to learn that just weeks ago I signed a peace treaty with our rival nations, though I doubt the peace will hold for long. My shinobi don't quite know what to do with themselves now that peace has been restored to Konoha. Many of them have been fighting all their lives. Sometimes I think a whole generation has been lost to this war. But they're happy, finally. Finally I can see joy in this village, after so many years of war. The younger ones don't realize that it probably won't last long, and I don't have the heart to tell them._

_I'll get to the point, I suppose. I have a favor to ask of you, Albus. Surely you remember the betrayal of Konoha by my old student, Orochimaru? I don't recall whether or not I mentioned this, but he has had an intense interest in one of my younger operatives for many years now. This particular young man was the Yondaime's own protégé, and while the Yondaime was alive he and I put much effort into protecting the boy from my former pupil's grasps. But now that Yondaime is dead, Orochimaru has once again taken up active pursuit of the boy, and I can assure you that his capture of this boy would be disastrous for both him and for Konoha. I have done my best to keep him where my student wouldn't find him, but just last week he was very nearly captured by Orochimaru's forces at the border of Rain and Fire, and if it had been a solo mission I can't imagine where he would be now._

_Please do not feel pressured, but I don't know where else to turn. He is anything but safe in Konoha, and I can't put him on long-distance missions forever. If you were to take the boy into your school, he could provide excellent services as a bodyguard or even as an assistant teacher in certain areas. His skills are exceptional, and he learns very quickly. Five or six weeks of remedial tutoring should be enough to boost him to a fourth-year level in magic. His English is very good as well; he speaks fluently with hardly a trace of an accent. I have enclosed the boy's complete profile and information._

_Again, please do not feel obligated to do this. It is simply a request, no more._

_-Sarutobi, Sandaime Hokage of Konoha-no-Gakure_

_P.S. There is one other reason for this plea. Life has not been kind to this boy, and with the recent death of his mentor he has sunken into deep despair. I believe that this village is slowly killing him, Albus, as melodramatic as that may sound. As with all the people of Konoha, I hold the boy very close to my heart, and I can't bear to see him drowning in his own memories. I have reason to believe that if he stays in Konoha, he will eventually sink into madness and lose his will to live. I've seen it happen far too many times to let it happen again._

_I am sorry to have made you suffer through this dreadfully depressing letter, and that I have no particularly happy news to bear, but alas, this is the world we live in._

Albus closed the letter carefully, curiosity growing within him. He already knew his answer would be "yes," even before he read the report on his new transfer student. But even so he opened up the significantly thicker secondary parcel and scanned the first page. He was taken aback when he saw the picture: it was of a silver-haired child wearing a warrior's uniform. His face was completely concealed by a fearful mask that resembled a grinning wolf, the fangs and face streaked with red and outlined with black over stark white. Dumbledore pulled his eyes away from the picture and began to read.

_Name: Hatake Kakashi  
Identification number: 1409211  
Fieldname: Wolf  
Age: 14 years 7 months_

_Service Profile__  
Rank: Jounin  
ANBU, Secondary Squad Captain, Hunter Division  
Bloodline Ability(s): Hatake White Chakra  
Uchiha Sharingan see sections History; Abilities for information  
Area(s) of Expertise: Assassination, Reconnaissance, Sabotage  
_

_Affiliations  
Relatives: Hatake Sakumo (father, deceased)  
Ansori Makoto (mother, deceased)  
Genin Team— Squad 9: Uzumaki Arashi (deceased)  
Uchiha Obito (deceased); Mansori Rin (deceased)  
Chuunin Long-Duration Mission Squad: 12C see Konoha mission records  
Sehiro Tenchi; Hyuuga Tsagi; Yuuichi Yuki (deceased); Inuzaka Kaemon (deceased)_

Dumbledore could barely believe his eyes as he continued to read. As he made his way down the long list marked "Affiliations" almost half the names listed had the label "deceased" written next to them. He spent the better part of an hour reading the entire report, even the part called "Mental Health," which screamed accusations of depression, survivor's guilt complex, obsessive compulsive disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, emotional retardation and more…dear Merlin. He felt his aged heartstrings painfully jerked when he read the History section. The boy had endured a childhood he could not imagine taking place outside of Shinobi lands.

_'What am I inviting into my school?' _Dumbledore wondered as he wrote a simple note on another piece of parchment.

_Dear Sarutobi: _

_Of course I'll take your boy. He'll be in good hands. _

_This year, Hogwarts has been granted the distinct honor of hosting the Triwizard Tournaments, after so long. Perhaps the boy would be interested in participating? The decision is entirely at your discretion, of course, but remember that although the Triwizard Tournaments are immensely dangerous for a young wizard, I believe that even your youngest of shinobi have faced and overcome greater dangers. It will be challenging and dangerous, but in my experience such a challenge can do nothing but good things for a lost child. _

_-Yours, Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. There have been disturbing signs of Voldemort's impending return. Harry Potter has been in increasing danger, and perhaps Kakashi would be useful as a guard. Not full-time, of course, but the very presence of a skilled shinobi could prove extremely useful._

He sealed the message and sent it away on the same owl that had sent it with no time for second thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Floo Powder and The Half-Giant**

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I have attempted to reply to your reviews, but I don't know if the reply system actually works, and I have reason to doubt...Well, anyway, here's chapter 2. Enjoy!

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Hatake Kakashi scowled as he packed his sparse belongings into his standard-issue, black mission bag. "Diplomacy mission my ass," he muttered to himself with a roll of his eyes. Did Sandaime really think he was so clueless? He knew that the Third Hokage had been worried about him ever since that mission several months ago, when Orochimaru had first made an attempt to snatch him. And with this latest mission last week, the Snake Sannin had very nearly made a successful kidnapping. 

The fourteen-year-old ANBU hissed involuntarily as he put too much weight on his injured left leg, a souvenir of that confrontation. He supposed he had been lucky that the mission had been with Tazura Kenji, a seasoned veteran who had been able to divert the half-dozen Sound agents before spiriting the injured Kakashi to safety. He scowled at the memory. He had been quite useless in that particular battle, something had made him seize up like a rookie Genin just before the shuriken tore through his leg. Kenji had later explained that one of the ninja had used some sort of sound-based attack to upset his inner ear, thus causing the minutes of disorientation and sluggishness.

Even so, he still felt ashamed of his…well, _rookie-ness_. He was well aware that even though he was a year-long veteran of ANBU—he had joined the day after Rin died, despite his mentor's pleas—he was the youngest member in the entire organization, and most everyone, rookies, veterans, and subordinate agents alike, thought of him as the baby of the group, and treated him accordingly.

Kakashi let out a sigh as his eyes scanned his bare apartment, mentally running through his checklist of Things to Pack. This was a yearlong mission, of course, so his checklist basically encompassed everything that wasn't nailed down. Not that that was saying much. Everything he had fit into the single black bag, though he would have to buy a new toothbrush when he got there, as his current one seemed to have been rather badly scorched sometime during last week's mission. He wondered briefly how that had happened, but it didn't really matter, did it?

"Diplomacy mission," he growled again. "Yeah right." He was being sent away for his own protection, he knew. Not for the protection of this Potter kid, nor for the formation of an alliance between the two nations. No, he was being sent away because he was _Kakashi_ and he was in _danger_ and everyone was so _worried_ about him. Well, bull. If Sandaime thought the village could survive without him, then all the more power to him. He'd be sorry.

He contented himself with this thought, until he was calm enough to remind himself that he was ANBU, and it was not his place to ask _why_. He would do as the mission scroll told him, down to the finest detail, and he'd do it without complaint. That was the shinobi way. That was _his_ shinobi way.

He still had an hour to get to the first checkpoint, he realized. That gave him just enough time to drop off his potted bonsai tree, Mr. Ukki, at Gai's house and still visit the memorial to say goodbye to his team. He wondered if Obito would be angry. Probably, knowing Obito, but he would get over it eventually. He always did. After a brief conversation with Gai's mother (thank Kami it wasn't Gai himself) he arrived at the memorial and apologized that he was going away, and promised to pray for them daily.

"I'll even set up a shrine," he pledged rather desperately, "I'll think of you every day," but the black obsidian stone just stared at him mutely, as if silently accusing him, _You ungrateful bastard, Kakashi! I gave my life for you, and this is what I get? _"I'm sorry Obito, but I can't refuse this mission! I'm doing the best I can!" _Well, it's not good enough. _Kakashi sighed. At least Rin and Arashi-sensei didn't mind. Maybe they could calm Obito down. He could hear Rin's worried voice telling him not to get hurt, and sensei playfully teasing, _Remember to make friends, 'Kashi-kun!_ He almost smiled. Almost.

"I have to go," he told them, and reached down to run his fingers over those two familiar names, and over the sharp, newly-carved name of his sensei. "I won't forget."

He fit his wolf ANBU mask over his face and tightened the straps of his pack over his shoulders, and set off into the trees.

* * *

Hagrid glanced nervously at his pocket watch, then at the fireplace, then back at his pocket watch again. There were only 125 seconds until the exchange student was scheduled to arrive. The half-giant had no idea what to expect. He had a brief description of the kid (silver hair…?) and the list of passwords he was supposed to recite, but that was it, he didn't even have a picture. 

He had been tasked by Dumbledore to greet this new student at the Leaky Cauldron Pub, through Floo Port 3, and to escort him around Diagon Alley and help him purchase his school supplies. After that was all said and done, he was to escort him up to the school on the 31st of August. That was two days away. He just hoped they would get along.

* * *

Kakashi leapt to his feet, looking around wildly, and promptly landed on his rear again. Well, whatever he had been expecting, it certainly hadn't been _that_. He had taken the old boot in his hands, just as the instructions had said, and the thing had…well he wasn't sure quite what it did but the point was he was quite certainly not in Konoha anymore. He regained composure and looked around for the next key-thing, a _portkey_ as the instructions had called it. He only had a few seconds to find the thing before the spell timed out. He finally located the hat (he was sitting on it) and grabbed it, preparing for another dizzying plummet to Kami-knew-where. 

He managed to land sloppily on his feet that time, having anticipated the landing and adjusted his trajectory appropriately, but as soon as he thought he was steady he lost his balance and fell on his backside. He got to his feet and looked around him. He had no idea where he was, but it appeared to be someplace far away, seeing as the sun seemed to be just setting here, whereas it had been already dark when Kakashi left Konoha. He spun around and spotted the moldy old shack the mission scroll had mentioned, wherein he was supposed to find a fireplace and…floo powder?

The Shinobi shrugged and headed inside, suppressing a sneeze as pollen and mold spores assaulted his immune system. Damn allergies…he found the fireplace and pulled out his mission scroll for more instructions.

_Upon approaching the fireplace, _he read silently, _you will notice a small flower pot resting on the mantle. Empty out the dirt and you will find concealed within a second jar. Remove the cork stopper from this jar and take a handful of the white powder inside. Throw the powder into the lit fireplace and step inside once you see the flames turn green. Clearly speak the words, "Diagon Alley."_

He blinked. What the hell? He skimmed for more information, but that was all there was on the matter. Eyebrows furrowed, he read the next lines: _Upon exiting the fireplace, you will meet a half-giant named Hagrid. Speak these words to him, "Flippit, jiminy, oddment, tweak." He will counter thusly: "What is your name, and tell me your quest." You are to reply: "I am the Wolf of Netherworld, I come to see the moon rise."_

Kakashi allowed himself a small smirk. Netherworld, huh? It fit. Of course he understood the code. He was the Wolf, obviously; Wolf being his ANBU alias. Netherworld was code for ANBU. Again, very fitting. Watching the moon rise was his mission, in this case building up a political alliance and babysitting some brat while hiding from Orochimaru. Well, a mission was a mission, (no matter how stupid) and he would do it. For this was his ninja way.

He sent a small Katon jutsu into the fireplace and set it ablaze, and fished the secondary jar out from the flowerpot. He tossed a handful of powder into the flames, and nearly leapt back when they turned a vibrant shade of green. Weird.

He very reluctantly stepped into the flames, and found them to be quite cool. Even so, they had a funny smell to them and Kakashi got the distinct feeling that he was going to die. _Well, here goes…_ "Diagon Alley!"

* * *

Hagrid glanced at his watch. The exchange student was due 10 seconds ago. He took another cautionary step back, suddenly wondering whether or not this student had ever used floo powder before. Those who hadn't had a tendency of flying out of fireplaces at a rather high velocity… 

His question was answered seconds later, when a great plume of dust spewed from the fireplace, shortly followed by a very disoriented human who was flung from the fireplace and flat onto his face. Hagrid winced as the teen hit the floor with a dull thud.

"Yeh…yeh alright there, mate?" he asked uncertainly. The kid wasn't moving. He didn't even twitch. Hagrid bent down. "Mate?" He stepped back in surprise as the boy turned over abruptly, revealing an alarming white and red mask.

The masked teen got to his feet before Hagrid could extend a hand to help him, and gruffly dusted himself off. "Flippit, jiminy, oddment, tweak," he said in a rather shaky voice, obviously struggling to regain his shattered composure.

"Er, yeah," Hagrid said uncertainly, and instinctively put out a hand to steady the boy as he teetered dangerously on his feet. "Yeh sure yer alright?"

The boy looked up at him and said rather testily, "Just say the password."

"Right, right. Er, wot is yer name, and tell me yer quest."

"I am the Wolf of Netherworld, I come to see the moon rise." The boy recited flawlessly, without the slightest trace of an accent.

"Er. Yeah. Well done, I suppose. Well…m'name's Hagrid." He held out a hand for him to shake. "It's good t'meet yeh, um…wot should I call yeh?"

"Wolf," the boy answered without skipping a beat. He did not shake the proffered hand.

The half-giant blinked, slightly put off. "Oh. Right. Well then, er, Wolf, we'd best be off, I suppose. Would yeh like t'eat first, or put away your things?"

"Eat," the boy answered automatically. Hagrid nodded and led him out the door and through the gate to the magical world, before settling them both at a table at one of Hagrid's favorite restaurants. The half-giant eyed the exchange student through the corner of his eye as they waited to order. He was rather short for a fourteen-year-old, and looked abnormally skinny, too. And what was with the hair? Had he dyed it or something?

He wore an eccentric ensemble that would not look out of place on a warrior, or a serial killer or something. There was a black, form-fitting sleeveless shirt, and over that he wore light, flexible mesh armor that covered the chest and black. Judging from the quiet clicking every time the boy moved, Hagrid guessed he was wearing light chain mail under that. He wore loose black pants that were bound to his ankles with strips of white bandages, tucked under a pair of practical shoes with open toes. Several pouches of various shapes and sizes hung from his belt, along with a simple dagger in it's scabbard. Long, open-fingered gloves extended up past his elbows, with metal guards running the length of his forearms. Perhaps the most intimidating was the long, curved sword that was secured to his back, the handle was wrapped with dark red leather that looked as though it had endured much abuse. Lastly was a black spiral tattoo on his left bicep, and then of course that frightful mask with those empty slits for eyes, so he appeared to be staring everywhere and nowhere all at once… Hagrid suppressed a shudder. He didn't think he liked this boy very much.

Kakashi, on his part, had finally regained his composure after that dizzying ride through the floo powder. Kami-sama, what a stupid way to travel. So now he was free to stare at his escort, and he had to admit he hadn't quite expected him to be so, well, _large_. But presumably they didn't call the enormous man a half-giant for nothing, though Kakashi had assumed it had been code in the mission instructions.

He stared unabashedly at the huge man, confident that his mask would conceal his eyes. He sized the half-giant up, as he was no doubt doing likewise that very minute. Hagrid's hair resembled a bush more than anything, and Kakashi was quite sure he could see several broken comb teeth lodged in the mass. He wondered how long they had been there. His face was barely visible behind the tangle of hair, but Kakashi could tell that the man was nervous and avoiding eye contact. His hands fiddled with each other apprehensively as they rested on the table, nearly hidden by the cuffs of his mottled brown coat that looked like it had been stitched together with the skins of various unfortunate animals.

"Erm…perhaps yeh'd like t' take off that mask, eh, uh, Wolf?" the giant's voice startled him slightly, so caught up had he been in staring. The huge man's English was imprecise at best, and it took Kakashi a bit of thought to dissect the meaning.

"No," he answered curtly once he had figured it out. "It's part of my uniform."

The half-giant opened his mouth as if to say something, but he seemed to lose heart and instead muttered, "Oh. Er, alright,"

Kakashi reached up and adjusted his mask, his fingers lingering on the porcelain maybe a second longer than they would have otherwise. There was something comforting in the wolf mask…something familiar in this strange new society he was trapped in, that he would _remain_ trapped in, for a whole year… A waitress approached their table and asked for their orders, and Kakashi realized he hadn't even glanced at his menu. Well, that was just fine; he wasn't hungry anyway.

"Water, please," he said in a bored voice once Hagrid was finished ordering his enormous 4-course dinner. He wanted an appetizer, salad, soup, and an entrée…ugh. The half-giant looked at him, no doubt about to say something along the lines of, _You should eat, it's been a long journey, you need to put meat on those bones, et cetera. _But Kakashi's abrupt glare cut him off before the words formed on his lips.

He sipped at the water the waitress brought minutes later, silently mulling over this ridiculous mission. Well, in short, he didn't like it. He had never been this far west before, so he had no idea how the culture and customs worked. It would take weeks before he could effectively blend in. And Kakashi certainly didn't like that. A conspicuous shinobi was a dead shinobi.

He kept one arm slung casually over his pack beside him, ready to spring into action with it at any second. He had asked to eat first for this exact reason, so that if he had to make a sudden flight he would still have all his supplies. It was one of the first things Genins learned in the classroom.

He didn't notice the awkward silence that graced their table, too busy was he carefully examining the restaurant. He didn't like it. It was much too closed in, and the number of people in it wasn't right; just enough to execute an attack, but not enough to add the public and it's subsequent security into the equation. The strong smell of smoke and liquor was so strong it made his eyes water, even through the double masks. He cursed his sensitive nose, and violently sneezed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 Diagon Alley**

A/N: Once again, thank you to everyone who took the time to review. Enjoy chapter 3. A/N

* * *

The next day, Kakashi met Hagrid in the Leaky Cauldron pub at 10 AM, just as the giant had specified. Hagrid was rather apprehensive to see that the exchange student hadn't altered his ensemble much, and he still had that intimidating air of _I'm going to kill you if you look at me too long _hanging about him. 

"Well, eh, alright, then," Hagrid began bravely, and placed the list of Kakashi's school supplies on the table so the boy could look at it. "We've got to do most of this shopping today so we can leave for Hogwarts tomorrow afternoon," He paused. The boy was staring at him, or so he assumed, since he couldn't exactly see his eyes. He cleared his throat and looked for something to say. "Uhm…d-do you like shopping?"

"I didn't bring any money," the boy said flatly, ignoring Hagrid's question.

"It's all right here, Dumbledore's providin' it," the half-giant said quickly, and he withdrew a small pouch of coins from within one of his coat's many pockets. He placed the sac on the table, and Kakashi shook a few coins into the palm of his hand. He looked at them blankly.

"Er, do yeh know much about wizard money?" Hagrid asked carefully, as if afraid of invoking the wrath of the dark exchange student's sword. But the boy just shook his head slowly. Hagrid nodded and explained the relative values of the coins.

Kakashi seemed puzzled after the short lecture. "Oh…" he said, running over the values in his head; they would be difficult to remember, added up with all the other subtle little social rules. "Alright then. So…I pay with these particular units here, then? I will assume I can use the whole percentage if I am not notified otherwise."

Hagrid blinked. "Well, yeah, why wouldn't yeh?"

"I just—you know, on missions it's customary…never mind." Kakashi frowned behind his mask. Normally when a shinobi was assigned to a mission, money was very closely regulated by the Hokage's office. The ninja would be given a fixed amount to spend, along with a percentage bonus for use only in emergencies. Operatives were always told what percent of the money was set aside, and any unnecessary use of the emergency money would result in much confusion for the extremely anal-retentive Revenue Desk and most likely an "incident" with some uptight Chuunin who would proceed to rant for minutes on end about _Jounin arrogance_.

An awkward silence graced the table. Hagrid scratched at his beard, searching for something to say. "So, er, that'll cover the cost of all yer necessary school supplies, and I think Professor Dumbledore put in a bit o' extra for yeh t' spend on yerself. He's a good man, Dumbledore is."

Kakashi nodded absently and pocketed the coins. "And I'll be able to purchase all of these items within this basic area?" he asked, gesturing around him.

"Er, if yeh'd like I can show yeh around…" Hagrid said rather nervously with an inelegant shrug of his massive shoulders. But to his surprise, Kakashi nodded.

That would be the most efficient way, anyway, Kakashi reasoned. With the help of a guide he could complete the task in half the time it would take him without assistance. He glanced at the list. Displayed on a separate parchment was a list of garments and their pictures. (Okay, so the pictures moved…that was a bit weird. But he had been warned of such things in his briefing.) The uniforms were black, long, and terribly impractical. They looked stupid. "Where do I go to buy this ridiculous uniform?"

The half-giant blinked. "Don't you go callin' it ridiculous!" Hagrid said before he could stop himself. "I reckon it'll look far better than that…whatever it is yer wearin'. Now I dunno what kinda culture yeh come from, _Wolf_, but yer in wizard England now and you'd better respect that, no brandishin' knives and all that tripe. Rubbish like that's what'll get yeh in trouble here. And I'll have you know those uniforms've been a proud Hogwarts tradition for a hundred years, and—" He took a breath to say more, then seemed to realize how much he had just said, and fell silent with a stubborn, albeit slightly nervous scowl.

Kakashi frowned in surprise, then his face split into a tiny smirk behind his mask. Well, that was interesting. He had taken the half-giant for some sort of cowardly, blundering oaf, but now that he had finally spoken up about something… He let the silence hold for quite some time, simply staring at Hagrid and watching him grow more and more apprehensive as he looked into the hollow eyes of the wolf mask. Finally he spoke in a low, even tone, "A hundred years, eh? It shows." He tilted his head down to look at the pictures again, and allowed himself a small, hollow chuckle.

Hagrid's mouth fell slightly open, completely flummoxed. Now the cold child-warrior, who had been glaring daggers at him seconds ago, was laughing and cracking jokes? It was so confusing. "Er, yeah," Hagrid said, once he had regained his composure. "Well, if that's what yeh want t'do first, then I'll take yeh to the place t'go."

And so he did. The streets of Diagon Alley were clogged with students doing their last-minute shopping, and they were carrying the most peculiar of parcels. Kakashi could not help but stare openly at everything around him, as he traveled in the wake created by his enormous guide. His keen ears picked out snippets of conversation, many of which dealt with such subjects as "dragon hide," or "Quiddich World Cup" and the like. Beyond the heads of people he could see little flashes of items in store windows, including one enormous, violently purple frog, a big golden bowl sort of thing that was stirring itself, and a miniature soccer field with several miniature people flying around over it and throwing around a tiny red ball. His sensitive nose picked up a most interesting range of scents, few of which he could identify.

By the time they were halfway down the street, Kakashi was beginning to feel overwhelmed by the activity, and a pounding headache started up inside his head. He inwardly groaned. This was why he hated parties and avoided festivals like the plague. With his abnormally keen senses, he was very susceptible to sensory overload in places with lots of people. But he was a shinobi, and sometimes the nature of his missions took him to places like this, and it was his responsibility to ignore the headache, nausea and dizziness and do his job.

Presently, however, Hagrid made a right turn and led him inside a shop called "Madam Malkins Robes for All Occasions." He gratefully followed the half-giant inside, and as soon as the door shut everything fell blissfully silent. He ignored the other two students inside the shop, be-robed little brats who both looked absolutely terrified at the sight of him, and waited for Hagrid to stop conversing with the shopkeeper. Presently the squat woman, whom Kakashi assumed was Madame Malkins, approached him with a bubbly smile. Kakashi was impressed by the way the woman carried herself, showing no trace of nervousness at his appearance, her every movement professional and efficient.

He was also quite fascinated by the little tape measurer, that flew around him entirely of it's own accord, measuring everything from the length of his arms to the thickness of his smallest toe, until Malkins commanded it to stop, which it did. The stout woman then proceeded to do her work, and within forty-five minutes Kakashi had three pairs of ridiculous black work robes, a preposterous pointed hat, protective gloves that were made, apparently, of dragon hide, and a long black winter cloak. Everything was wrapped in brown paper and secured with twine, and tucked under Kakashi's arm.

"So. Where to next?" Hagrid inquired as they stepped out of the shop and back into the busy streets.

"What's closest?" Kakashi responded, eager to get out of the crowd as soon as possible.

"That would be…" Hagrid glanced at the list, "The apothecary. This way."

The apothecary stank, to say the least. The smell was so strong Kakashi could sense it before he even saw the sign above the door, and when he ventured inside he nearly threw up and quickly reeled back out into the fresh air, holding a hand to his head. It wasn't really so much that it reeked, per se, it was just so strong and there were so many scents he couldn't quite handle it.

"Perhaps you could perform the transaction?" Kakashi asked, disguising his gag reflex with a cough, "I'm feeling a bit lightheaded. I think I'll wait out here."

Hagrid did indeed handle the transaction, looking slightly concerned and confused as he purchased the basic items. When he came back outside Kakashi was sitting on a bench on the opposite side of the street, looking very disgruntled and naturally attracting many stares for his unusual attire.

"Yeh alrigh' lad?" The half-giant asked as he set the goods beside Kakashi on the bench. "Yeh look a bit peaky."

"I'm fine," Kakashi answered with a clear hint of annoyance in his voice, and he quickly got to his feet. "What's next?"

"Well, hold up now. First I want ter know what that was, back there. You sure yer feelin' alrigh'?"

"Yes!" Kakashi snapped. "I just don't like strong scents, that's all."

Hagrid nodded understandingly. "Yeh want some ice cream? There's a shop just two stores over,"

Kakashi blinked. Ice cream? He hadn't eaten ice cream since his tenth birthday, upon which Arashi-sensei had compelled him to do so by dunking his head forcefully in a tub of it. He smiled sadly behind his mask at the memory. Those were the good days. He just wished he hadn't been so _blind _to realize it when that time was a reality. It made him want to kick himself, to go back in time and smack that little emotional wreck of a Kakashi, and tell him to _Enjoy it while you can, kid, 'cause it's all gonna end before your oblivious little self can even realize what hit him._

"No thank you." He replied with forced politeness. Ice cream was a thing of those bittersweet memories, never to be spoiled. Because the memories were all he had left.

"Suit yerself," Hagrid mumbled, looking slightly disappointed. The half-giant led him around to several other shops, picking up the miscellaneous items that really couldn't be found anywhere else. It took Hagrid half an hour to pull Kakashi away from a large, squishy chair in Flourish and Blots and force him to return several books to the shelves, including, _The Art of War: Magic in the History of Europe, The Theory of Strategic Magic and it's Practical Application, _and especially _How to Bewitch your Friends and Befuddle your Enemies, Volumes 1-3. _

"Just yer wand left," Hagrid said, looking over the list. "And it's not even afternoon yet. Well done, eh? You'll have time to look around before we have to leave, assuming the wand business don't take too long."

Kakashi frowned. A wand. He had given the issue of a wand much thought, and was curious whether or not he would even be able to use one. From what Sandiame had told him before he left, the wand was a sort of channel for _magical energy, _which was similar to chakra in application, but quite different in theory.

Wizards, the Third Hokage had explained, had no chakra coils. That was why they developed wands in the first place, their chakra coils were stunted and didn't really work, their infinite store of magical energy instead dispersed evenly throughout their entire bodies. This was why Kakashi would never be able to sense a wizard's presence by reading chakra signatures; they simply didn't have any. And although "magic" could only be performed when a wizard was using a wand, they never ran out of magical energy and would never suffer the consequences of overuse.

Thus, because wizards had no chakra coils, they could not perform more than the most elementary of jutsu. But because shinobi had conscious control over their chakra, it would be possible, in theory, for one to make efficient use of a wand, though with a significant risk of chakra depletion.

"With practice," Sandaime had said, "I expect your unique chakra manipulation abilities will allow you to grasp the concept quite quickly. In fact, your understanding of chakra application is so extraordinary, I wouldn't be surprised to see you pull ahead of your peers after you master the basics of wand use. Just be careful not to overexert yourself; I know from personal experience just how draining real magic can be."

Keeping this in mind, the application of chakra and magical energy were essentially the same. Both required some semblance of control (in a wizard's case, his magic wand) and a catalyst: hand signs for shinobi, magic words for wizards. With practice and control, the desired event would eventually come about. However, because of the intrinsic differences between the two types of energy, those desired events were quite different in nature.

"Shinobi jutsu, I am sad to say, are used most often for destruction." Sandaime had lectured, "At Hogwarts, you will find a plethora of magical spells dealing with cooking, repairing things, levitation, cleaning, and the like, whereas you will certainly find no such shinobi jutsu anywhere, as you well know. These aforementioned magic spells deal solely with external manipulation, no change in self required; whereas jutsu that deal with external manipulation require a shinobi to expend huge amounts of energy and concentration." He had paused at this point and scratched at his chin. "For instance, do you remember when you were four, and your father was teaching you your first Katon Jutsu? It took you a very long time to master it, even though you were already quite good at internal-manipulation techniques, such as henge and bunshin jutsu. Am I making much sense?" At a bewildered shake of Kakashi's head, Sandaime had chuckled and simply replied, "I expect you'll get it in due time."

But soon these deeply theoretical and rather confusing thoughts were interrupted as Kakashi realized that he had just walked through a door and entered a small, dark room with no one at the grimy desk. "Er, hello? Anybody here?" Hagrid called into the back of the shop, where dusty, dark shelves occupied practically every cubic inch of space imaginable. After a few moments, Kakashi heard a rustling near the back of the store and a thin, withered looking old man with wild white hair and piercing eyes emerged from the dust-coated shelves. His penetrating blue eyes sharpened into a small frown as they fell upon Kakashi, but Hagrid was waving an envelope at him, so he chose to take it first rather than make some rude, yet unsettlingly wise comment about one of Kakashi's, er…eccentricities.

As soon as he had finished reading the document, his eyes darted up to stare at the Wolf's visage, an expression of restrained delight pulling on the corners of his mouth. He lifted an aged finger and pointed it at Kakashi, his mouth opening to speak. "I've been looking forward to this," he said, "For a very long time."

Kakashi blinked.

But Ollivander wasn't done. "The boy comes, he wants a wand. Neither wizard nor muggle, but something else entirely…a _shinobi _from the far east, a son of our sister people of lore…" he let out a harsh laugh. "Forgive me, boy, but I thought your kind were wiped out; it's certainly been awhile." He didn't wait for a reply, immediately beginning to sort through the shelves. "Which is your dominant arm?" he asked suddenly.

"Ambidextrous," Kakashi answered, glad to see his voice betrayed none of his disquiet at the man's strange little speech. Ollivander nodded and withdrew a little tape measurer, which instantly set about measuring every measurable aspect of his body.

"Mm hmm," Ollivander pulled a long box out from one of the shelves, in a plume of dust, and brought it to the counter. "I do believe this shall be one of my more interesting sales, no, Mr. Hatake?" he opened the box and held the wand out for Kakashi to take. "Seven and one half inches, holly, with dragon heartstring core. Quite stiff."

Kakashi blinked cluelessly.

"Well, go on, give it a wave!" Ollivander said impatiently.

The shinobi took the wand uncertainly and waved it around a bit, feeling quite foolish. Absolutely nothing happened.

"No?" The old man said, looking pleased, "Well, we'll just have to try another one! Here. Ten and three quarter inches, maple. Unicorn tail core, quite whippy."

Kakashi took it, and again nothing happened.

"Ah ha. Beachwood, unicorn tail again. 12 inches long, stiff as a board." With every wand Kakashi tried and rejected, Mr. Ollivander seemed to grow more and more enthusiastic. Soon there were discarded wands and their boxes stacked on every inch of any flat surface, and yet the eccentric old wand seller seemed to be having the time of his life.

"I always love a difficult sale," he told him an hour later, while Kakashi fruitlessly waved a stubby 6.25 inch, oak, stiff, phoenix-tail cored wand. Hagrid had retreated to a bench outside quite awhile ago, since all the chairs were covered in rejected wands, and some minutes ago he had left and returned with a very large ice cream cone, which he ate contentedly.

"There's no hurry, Mr. Hatake," Ollivander said with a happy smile when he saw Kakashi looking out onto the streets. "We've got all day."

"Perhaps we'd be better off just forgetting about it," Kakashi said. "I'm a shinobi, not a wizard. I don't think I _can _use a wand."

"Nonsense!" Ollivander snapped. "Of course you can use one, it's just a matter of _finding_ the _right _one. Here. Sixteen inches, very wavy. It's ash wood with unicorn tail core." It didn't work.

"Are you so sure?" Kakashi asked as he placed the wand back in the box and held out his hand to take the next one.

"Of course! I've seen it done. Many years ago, when I was just a small boy, three strange wizards from the Far East visited this land for a month in order to form peaceful relations. I believe one of them was your _Sandaime Hokage_," He waved the paper in Kakashi's face, and he saw that indeed it was the Third's signature. "It was my father who sold them their wands," Ollivander continued, as he snatched yet another unsuccessful wand from Kakashi's grasp, "And yes, I watched with my own eyes. So indeed it can be done, boy! It just requires a bit of patience. Is that too much to ask?"

"Um—" Kakashi grunted unintelligibly, and waved a 10-inch, stiff, dogwood wand with a phoenix tail core. His wrist tinged a bit, but he figured it was from the waving of uncountable wands rather than from magic. "We've been at it for three hours,"

"Indeed! Wonderful, isn't it?"

"Well…"

It was half an hour later, and Kakashi was about ready to quit, when it finally happened. He took the wand, without even looking at it, expecting to flourish it around and put it back with absolutely no reaction whatsoever. But as soon as his flesh so much as touched the smooth handle of this wand, he felt a wave of warm tingling sweep through his chakra coils, spreading from his arm over his chest, to the top of his head and to the tip of his toes. Ollivander smiled.

When he gave it an exploratory wave, a jet of white snow billowed out of the end, much to Kakashi's astonishment. Before he knew it, he felt a very small grin of delight creeping up his face, his first real smile in weeks.

"Excellent, excellent," Ollivander said with a triumphant beam. "Thirteen and a quarter inches long, ebony, dragon heartstring. Nice and swishy, excellent for charmwork." He took the wand from Kakashi and began to polish it with a cloth from under the desk. "This wand, Mr. Hatake, has been in this store's possession since that day those three wizards from the East came to buy their wands from my father. To show their goodwill to our community, they brought a branch of wood from an ancient ebony tree, one that has stood, according to legend, for one hundred years. This wand was made from that wood."

"I know that tree," Kakashi said suddenly. "It's dead. It was burned in a terrible battle between my village and the Iwa-nins, nearly ten years ago…"

"I see," the old man said, and he looked sad. "I am sorry to hear that, but it appears that it was meant to live on through you, Mr. Hatake. Use it well."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 Hogwarts**

AN: Once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm very pleased with the reception this fic has received thus far.

So, in this chapter, I tried to add a little culture and background by telling the story of Kakashi's wand. I attempted to make it as non-cliché as possible, but it still sounds a bit cheesy to me. Oh well, hopefully you'll like it more than I do.

Oh...and this will be my last update for some time; I'm being shipped off to summer camp where I will doubtless be forced to partake in such foolish activities as "arts and crafts" and will have no time to actually do something constructive and/or interesting. Save me please...

* * *

That night, as Kakashi sat at his inn table and vaguely sipped his soup, he stared at his new wand with wonder and something bordering on delight. He turned the polished black wood over and over in his hands, his fingers playing across the handle carved with a simple pattern of leaves and vines. As he ate he pondered, the tale of Konoha's ebony tree playing over in his mind. 

His first nanny had told him the story, when he was three years old and his father was off at war. Long ago, before Konoha even existed, the adventurous first and second Hokages traveled far and wide in their youth. Once their expeditions brought them far south, and there they came upon an ebony tree, and, meditating under it, was a wise old priest. Thinking the wood was beautiful, the brothers asked the priest if they could take some of the pods the tree had dropped. He told them that they could take one, and only one, and if they cared for the tree and nurtured it through the years, the tree would bestow a blessing upon their village. But if they let it shrivel up and die into nothingness, the same fate would someday befall their village. The two brothers eagerly returned to their town and planted the seed nearby, but after nearly two years of tending to the pod it never sprouted. Sorely disappointed, they abandoned the pod and all but forgot about it.

The very next year, renegade shinobi from the Village Hidden in the Lakes pillaged their defenseless town and burned it to the ground, chasing away the few villagers still left alive. Deeply angered and hungering for revenge, the brothers began teaching the survivors the art of the shinobi, which had been taught to them by their father. Soon they taught outcasts and refugees from all over Fire country, and the number of followers grew. Eventually, Konoha no Gakure, the Village Hidden in the Leaves, was born. That very same month, the ebony seed sprouted.

Over the years, the tree grew and grew with the village, because although the brothers had forgotten about their ebony pod, they were nurturing another tree with great passion. Many years later, when the Village of the Lakes was destroyed and Konoha had risen to be a great power, the brothers stumbled upon a beautiful, enormous ebony tree, which had grown far taller than any other of it's kind. It was only then that they remembered their ebony pod that never sprouted, and that this tree was the very same. From then on, the story had been legend, and the tree had continued to live on for nearly a century, far longer than any other ebony tree ever would have. And then came that day ten years ago, when shinobi of the Village Hidden in the Rocks burned the great tree to ashes, leaving only a sad, hollow skeleton standing where that tree had once been.

And yet, here Kakashi stood with a part of that tree, that legacy, in his hands, to live on through him. The Hokages' ebony tree had been weakened by the fury of Konoha's enemies, just as Konoha itself had been scorched by Kyuubi's fire. But just as Konoha lived on, so did the tree, even if it was no more than this one piece.

He turned the wand over in his hands, smiling sadly. Of course he didn't believe the story. It was just an old wives' tale, meant to reinforce pride for the village. At least, that was what he tried to tell himself, but it didn't always work, because part of him really did want to believe that the old tree was the spirit of Konoha. But that beloved old tree was long dead—this magic wand in his hands didn't constitute life—whereas Konoha lived on, so how could he believe the legend? It was just a stupid tree, with a stupid story to go with it. And this piece of wood in his hands was just that, a piece of wood, regardless of where it came from.

He put the wand back inside its box, and hurried up to his room.

* * *

The next day, Kakashi got up early and toured the shops before the streets clogged up with people, and he found that, in spite of himself, it was actually quite enjoyable. There was so much to explore: and explore he did, every inch of it. He spent quite a while in Flourish and Blots, and after reading the entirety of volume one in "How to Bewitch your Friends and Befuddle your Enemies," he purchased three other rather large books and hurried outside to visit the other stores. He was quite tempted to buy an energetic purple monkey from Clamander's Magical Creatures, but decided that it would be best just to look. 

He spent at least ten minutes interrogating the owner of Goodwin's Quality Quiddich Supplies, and learned that although there was no chance he would be able to afford a flying broomstick, the sport was _definitely_ something he wanted to try. There were several small candy shops that featured such sweets as "Bertie Botts Every Flavored Beans," and other outlandish goods. Kakashi examined the sweets with interest but had no desire to eat them; candy had sort of lost its charm after sensei died, just like everything else. There was also a joke shop, and after buying some relatively innocuous items he hastened away, because he smelled far too much gunpowder and a young boy was happily waving a flaming sparkler in close vicinity to a crate of Catherine Wheels.

Kakashi returned to the hotel room at 4:30, giving him fifteen minutes until he and Hagrid left for Hogwarts. Since he had been assigned no emergency percentage, he had taken the liberty of spending all but eight percent of the money this Dumbledore had given him. He had bought a curious little spinning instrument from the spy shop, some fireworks and magical prank items from the joke shop, three interesting books, a wizard's chess set, some incense (for the makeshift memorial he planned to construct), and a peculiar potted plant that would compensate for the absence of Mr. Ukki.

"Tobi," he decided with a small smile, as he put the plant on his bed and started to repack. "I'm going to call you Tobi." He reached out a finger and stroked one of the long, thin leaves. It twitched in reply, shrinking momentarily into the depths of the pot, which looked far too large for it, having nearly the circumference of Kakashi's head, the reason being that it hated being repotted, apparently.

The plant, the shopkeeper had told him, was called _Carnavorate Aronadus, _and it was carnivorous. Apparently it ate anything that crossed it's path, so long as it was bigger than a spider and smaller than a large rat. All he had to do was water it, and make sure to give it a cricket or two if ever it started looking droopy, and it would grow into a "wonderful pest-killer," according to the shopkeeper. What exactly that entailed, Kakashi didn't know, but he liked that kind of not-knowing.

He packed what he could into the bag and gathered everything else into his arms, with Tobi perched precariously on top. Hagrid came up and helped him carry everything, eyeing the plant with something that looked like giddiness.

"Ya know what that there is?" he asked excitedly, nodding his head towards Tobi.

"Carnavorate Aronadus." Kakashi answered tonelessly as he struggled to get down the stairs without incident.

"Yeah, yeah, but d'you know what it _is?"_

Kakashi's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "It's a plant."

"It's only a baby yet," Hagrid said, seeming not to notice Kakashi's impatience. "Now I've seen one full grown, and they're amazin' ter see, they are! Almost like real creatures, just that they live in a pot. Make sure yeh keep it fed, and treat it right or I promise it'll get yeh back fer it!" He laughed heartily, and made an attempt to touch one of the tendril-like leaves, but in doing so nearly dropped the packages and thought better of it.

"Now, we're going by portkey," Hagrid said, and Kakashi groaned. "And we've got a bit of walking to do after that, so Professor Dumbledore's arranged to have yer stuff delivered to Hogwarts." He set the packages down by the counter, gesturing for Kakashi to do the same. He did so reluctantly. Tom, the innkeeper, nodded at Hagrid and told him he would have them delivered on time.

"Where's the portkey?" Kakashi asked, looking around the inn.

"Right here," the half-giant replied, and held up a dirty old sock with a large hole in it. "Grab on now, it should be startin' up in a few seconds yet."

Kakashi tentatively clutched the sock and prepared himself for the unpleasant trip, which came far sooner than he would have liked. After the nauseating spinning and dropping, he landed heavily on his back, his pack breaking his fall on the warm grass. He got to his feet quickly and looked around, finding himself on a grassy knoll with a view of the mountains. It really was beautiful scenery.

"This way, then," Hagrid said, as he struggled to his feet, and he led him to the east.

Twenty minutes later, they rounded a ridge and Kakashi laid eyes on the castle that was to be his home for the next year. It was incredible. Nestled between the mountains, the huge castle's great spires and towers rose into the sky, seeming all but impenetrable. Kakashi realized that this was the biggest building he had ever seen, topping even some of the enormous daimyo palaces he had guarded as a chuunin. The grounds were huge, he soon learned, encompassing everything from an enormous lake to a "forbidden" forest. He hungrily drank in the sights as Hagrid led him through the grounds, approaching the front gates to the inner grounds. The gate was enormous and made of wrought iron, and beyond it stretched a long path leading up to castle's front door.

Waiting beside the gate was a carriage with no driver, and pulling the carriage were two _hideous _horse-things that stared at Hagrid and Kakashi with bulging white eyes as they approached. There was no flesh to cover their bones, and their coats, matted with something that looked like blood, simply clung to their skeletons. Dark, spindly wings protruded from their shoulder blades, and their bone-white teeth were frozen in a permanent grin, with no flesh to cover them.

"Well, here's our ride," Hagrid said, and opened the door for Kakashi to get in, and then climbed inside after him.

"What…are those _things?" _Kakashi asked warily, jerking his head towards the front of the carriage as they lurched forward.

"Ah…" Hagrid sighed, "You can see those, can yeh?"

"Of course I can see them! Who could possibly miss them? What are they, genjutsu of some sort?"

"Well, er, I dunno what a _gen-jutsu _is, but them horses, they're called Thestrals, they are. And not everyone can see 'em, yeh know."

"Why not? They…they are real, aren't they? Not some sort of illusion…?"

"Aye, they're as real as the nose on yer face," he paused and looked at the mask. "Er, assuming yeh _have_ a…"

"Yes I have one," Kakashi snapped. "Get on with it."

"Right. Now, yeh can only see 'em if you've witnessed death, see. If yeh've never watched somebody die, them beasts are invisible, and it seems like these carriages are pullin' themselves."

"Oh," Kakashi said. "How quaint." He fell into a brooding silence, wondering why this Dumbledore person would be so rude as to insult him like this on his very first day. Honestly, undead horses that could only be viewed by people who had seen someone die? What a wonderful welcome that made.

Presently the carriage pulled up to the front door, and Kakashi craned his head upwards as he stepped out, trying to get a feel for just how tall the castle was. In a word, it was very tall. A spindly woman with her hair tied in a bun under an enormous black hat was standing next to the opened gate, her lips pressed into a thin line at the sight of Kakashi.

"Well, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said as he stepped out of the carriage, "Here he is. Right on time."

"Indeed, well done, Hagrid." She sized the new student up, and instantly decided that he could pose a danger to the school. Just look at the hair! Had he dyed it or something? And surely the sword was just a _bit_ superfluous. "So you're Kakashi Hatake, are you boy?"

Kakashi nodded and bowed.

Her lips pursed into a still thinner line. "I see. My name is Professor McGonagall, I teach transfiguration class. Well Mr. Hatake, I'll take you up to see the Headmaster now, if you'll follow me. Thank you, Hagrid, you're dismissed." She nodded to the half-giant, who turned and headed away towards the forest.

Kakashi had barely stepped through the massive oak doors when a blurry white _thing _came flying at him with a boisterous shriek. The shinobi stepped back with a small intake of breath, and in half a second he had a kunai grasped in each hand, wrapped around his middle fingers. But the white thing, whatever it was, didn't seem phased at all.

"Oooh! What's this I see? Not an ickle firstie, is he? No, he carries puny knives instead…ehehehe!" the white blur cackled happily, and blew an enormous raspberry at him, while Kakashi's eyes grew wide. Presently the blur stopped long enough for Kakashi to catch a glimpse of it: it was a transparent, floating, _man_, who happened to be shooting spitballs at him at that very second.

"Peeves!" McGonagall barked at the blur, "Get away from here! Go on, get!"

The white thing turned it's gaze upon the teacher, and made a very rude hand gesture at her. "Does the ickle firstie think he's frightening, wearing a scary mask?" Peeves said suddenly, and made a dive at him. Kakashi slashed, but his kunai struck nothing but thin air, even as he watched it pass right through the silvery mist. The white thing stopped inches from his face, and pointed a transparent finger at the mask. "Or perhaps he's just ugly!" With that the white thing lunged forward, and Kakashi was immersed in an icy cold sensation as he realized the thing had _flown__ through_ him. He was only halfway turned around when he saw a large, red, spherical object flying at him, and when he twisted to meet it with his kunai, it burst and instantly drenched him with water.

"Eeehehehehe!" The white thing's cackling filled the chamber, and it came to a stop hovering above the two of them, absolutely ignoring McGonagall's furious shouting. "Ickle firstie, ickle firstie, wears a mask but can't dodge fast!" he chanted gleefully, apparently making up the atrocious rhyme as he went. "Shiny knives, he leaps and dives, but it's not enough to saaave hiiim!" With that the thing rose up to the high ceiling and disappeared from sight, his delighted screeching fading as he went.

"What—was that?" Kakashi demanded as he collected his wits and restored his kunai to their holster.

"That was Peeves the Poltergeist," McGonagall said a little breathlessly, a long-suffering expression on her face. "He is, unfortunately, one of our resident ghosts."

"Ghosts? _One _of your resident—ghosts?!" Kakashi sputtered as he tried in vain to dry himself off.

"Indeed. I'm sure you'll learn all about them while you're here," she said. "Now, hold still."

Kakashi glared suspiciously as the witch pointed her wand at him and muttered some strange words, and suddenly he felt all the water slide off of him to the floor. "Oh, um, thank you," he muttered, and was secretly amazed at the witch's magic.

Without further ado, she led him through the halls to Professor Dumbledore's office, while Kakashi stared all around him with wide eyes. Particularly interesting were the hundreds of moving portraits, some of which talked to him and waved. Eventually they came to a stop in front of a gargoyle, which scared Kakashi out of his wits when it opened it's beak-like mouth and said, "Password?"

"Pumpkin seeds," McGonagall replied with the utmost of seriousness, and the gargoyle leapt aside obediently. "This way, Mr. Hatake," the professor said and she waved him inside the doorway left by the gargoyle. It led to a strange elevator that worked seemingly without any pulleys, cables, or tracks. It came to a stop and opened up to a large, elaborate room, which was decorated with countless books, scrolls, and little whirring instruments that Kakashi couldn't begin to understand. But McGonagall strode straight past all the interesting things and snapped at Kakashi to follow, as she led him up to a large desk behind which was sitting an old man wearing a vibrantly purple hat.

"Ah! Minerva, Kakashi, how kind of you to come!" He said with a wide smile, and spread his arms out in greeting. "No problems I trust, Minerva?" He looked not in the least bit surprised at Kakashi's appearance.

"No, Hagrid reported nothing," Minerva McGonagall said, "But we had a little run-in with Peeves on the way,"

"Ah," Dumbledore said, nodding understandingly. "Thank you, Minerva. You are dismissed." The witch nodded and exited, while Dumbledore signaled to Kakashi to sit down. The old headmaster tented his fingers and smiled, his half-moon glasses twinkling unnervingly.

"So!" he said finally, "You're Kakashi Hatake, my new exchange student."

"Yes sir," he inclined his head respectfully.

"Lets go over the parameters of your mission first. Sit down," He said as he drew a scroll out of a drawer on his desk. "Officially, you are an exchange student, Kakashi, sent to develop favorable relations between our people. Your secondary duties are to keep a sharp eye out for intruders into this castle, and specifically look out for one Harry Potter. He's a Gryffindor fourth year, just ask anyone who he is and they'll tell you. Now, I'm not asking you to expend enormous amounts of energy guarding this castle, but there have been serious security breaches recently and I will inform you when your services as guard are needed." He un-tented his fingers and lowered his tone conspiratorially. "Now, I am not going to insult you by pretending you don't know the real nature of this 'mission,' because I know you do."

"I'm being protected," Kakashi murmured with a scowl.

"Exactly. Therefore you realize that this school is doing you a favor, not the other way around. As such, there will be a few rules you must follow." He looked at him sternly. "Firstly, you must cohere to the dress code during all school hours, meaning that there will be no wearing that mask, understood?"

Kakashi scowled. "May I wear the secondary one?"

Dumbledore looked at him sharply. "Not during school hours unless you receive permission from a teacher, Mr. Hatake, but yes, you may do so during free time."

Kakashi sighed and nodded, feeling miserable. He hated taking off the secondary mask, but he was often forced to do so during missions despite his immense discomfort, so it wasn't anything new.

"Now, your ANBU Wolf visage may only be seen when you are called for guard duty, Mr. Hatake, I don't think many first years would quite feel comfortable around it." He smiled and chuckled to himself, spectacles gleaming. "Additionally, if any of my staff members finds a knife or another weapon on you while you are not on guard duty, you will be severely punished. Other than that, you are expected to follow all the school rules, or at least not get caught breaking them." He chuckled again. "Are there any questions so far?"

The shinobi shook his head mutely, and glared murderously at the headmaster behind his mask.

"Good. Now remember that this is, officially, a diplomacy mission, so do try to make friends, Kakashi." His face softened slightly. "My friend Sandaime has told me that you aren't the most sociable of shinobi, and I accept that. But please be conscious of the fact that you are here to create bonds between our respective worlds."

Kakashi was tempted to tell him, _If that's what you two want, you should've sent a different shinobi, _but he held his tongue.

"You may explore the grounds if you wish, but you must remain inside Hogwarts' perimeter and only explore during daytime hours. You, like your peers, will not be permitted to venture into the Forbidden Forest, though I know it's tempting. Now, what else?" he looked at the ceiling, pondering for a moment. "Ah yes. I think it might be wise to treat this as a normal mission, in that, for your own protection, you don't mention your place of origin and keep your demonstration of jutsu to a minimum. The last thing I would want is for you to be kidnapped while you are here by the very person you're being hidden from. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Mentally he scoffed, and added,_ Like I would do any of those things anyway._

"Right. If you agree, I am going to announce that you live in the Village of Kyoko in Japan. Is that alright with you?"

Kakashi frowned in distaste. Japan. Honestly. In reality, Fire Country and the rest of the shinobi world was located deep in the wilderness of rural China, Tibet, and Mongolia, where they could easily blend in with the people of those places, overlooked and completely unnoticed by national governments. There were even some shinobi villages scattered in southern Russia. For the most part, shinobi made their lives and wars beside the non-shinobi villagers, and their cultures had become intertwined into one that could only be described as that belonging to a _Hidden Village_. But outside the specific regions in which Hidden Villages lurked, the word _shinobi _never even saw the light of day. "That's fine," Kakashi said, supposing he should at least be grateful that this Dumbledore fellow appreciated the concept of being discreet.

The old headmaster nodded. "So, in a nutshell, you should treat this not as what we both know it to be, but as it is detailed in this mission scroll." He waved the scroll at him before stowing it back in his desk. "But do try to have fun, Kakashi. One can never have too many good memories," he smiled warmly and held up a thick packet. "Now, please read through these papers before tomorrow afternoon. It details the fine points of your duties, restrictions, and privileges while you are here, which are always good to know."

Kakashi took the packet and flipped through it briefly. "Thank you, sir."

"Indeed. Please be aware that I have set up remedial tutoring for you three times a week for six weeks, with Professors McGonagall and Snape. They will be held at six in the afternoon every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Your first lesson will be with Professor McGonagall, on Monday, your first day of school. Now, before I call someone to take you around Hogwarts, I think you'd like to know about the little ceremony we have here at the beginning of every school year…"

* * *

A/N: In this chapter I tried to define Konoha's location in relation to the world of Harry Potter, and I decided that central Asia would be best. Sorry if I've offended any Mongolian/Chinese/Tibetan/Russian readers by implying that your governments can't see what happens in their own countries. That's not at all what I meant. It's just a harmless plot device, so no declaring war on me, 'kay? We're all cool here? Okay. 

Expect my next update in about three weeks, unless I miraculously find that my summer camp comes equipped with internet, free time, and lax security systems. Which is highly unlikely.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 Of Sorting and Hats**

A/N: I'm back! Thanks for your patience, everyone. I know it was a long wait...and I've come back with some sort of nasty virus thing, too, so I'm a bit behind in my writing. Also, I am in the process of replying to reviews.

There are references to Kakashi-Gaiden in this chapter, so if you haven't read it or are not familiar with Kakashi's childhood, you might not understand what's going on. That will apply increasingly to later chapters, as well.

Now, following chapter 4 some people expressed surprise and even dismay upon learning that Kakashi would not be wearing his signature mask all the time. Well, I didn't have any particular reason to do that other than (1) Kakashi's mask annoys me, and (2) because a mask is symbolic, and to remove a mask is symbolic of personal change. (We'll see more of that later, no doubt.) And if it's still bothering you anyway, be assured that Kakashi is in fact wearing his mask most of the time in this fic anyway, and if you really want to, you can use your imagination in the parts where he isn't.

I just felt like I had to explain myself, so there you are. Sorry for the long author's note. Now for chapter 5.

* * *

Harry grinned helplessly as he sat under the soft light of hundreds of floating candles, finally drying off and ready to stuff himself full of mouth-watering food in the company of his closest friends, at long last back in his favorite place in the whole world. Even the rain and freezing cold had done nothing to dampen his spirits, so relieved was he to be back here at Hogwarts, back in his true home. Sure, the events of the Quiddich World Cup were slightly disturbing, but how could anything possibly go wrong here, surrounded by powerful wizards and joyful spirits? 

He looked at the gleaming golden platters and goblets hungrily. "I hope they hurry up and start the sorting soon," he said over the din of hundreds of conversations, "I'm starved,"

"You've never seen a sorting, have you Harry?" Hermione asked suddenly, "Other than your own of course."

Harry shook his head, smiling. "Nope. All I can say is, I'm certainly glad to be here this year…"

"Rather than slamming headlong into the killer tree," Ron said petulantly, "And worse afterwards, those dementors…"

"How 'bout we _don't _talk about that?" Harry said with a grimace. He still hadn't quite recovered from that particular memory.

"Here here!" Ron said, and he lifted his empty goblet to Harry. Hermione just frowned, and thought about making some snide comment about just who was to blame for the incident with the tree, but kept her silence, because the side door had just opened with a creak, and Professor McGonagall entered, a line of scared, pale, and dripping wet first years following nervously behind her.

One of the smaller ones was wrapped in Hagrid's coat. "Oi! Collin!" the boy shouted, completely unabashed and looking positively giddy, "I fell in the lake, Collin! I fell in the lake!"

Collin grinned and gave him a double thumbs-up. "That's my brother Dennis, Harry!" Collin said earnestly, reaching across several other people to tug on Harry's sleeve. "Just cross your fingers he's in Gryffindor!"

"Er, yeah," Harry said, and smiled weakly.

Upon the chair sat the squat Sorting Hat, whose seam presently ripped as it burst out into song. Harry listened with the rest of the school to the old hat's intonation, and as the verses came he realized that this one was different from the one it had sung at his own sorting. Ron informed him that it sang a different song each year, and expressed sympathy for the hat's no doubt dismally unexciting quality of life.

But McGonagall had already drawn out a long scroll, and the first of the trembling line came forward to be sorted into Ravenclaw. The next one went to Slytherin, then Ravenclaw again, and it continued as Harry's stomach grumbled loudly. Eventually a beaming Dennis Creevy was sorted into Gryffindor, to the enthusiastic cheers of his brother. Finally Zachary Zimmerman was sorted into Hufflepuff, but McGonagall did not remove the aged Sorting Hat from it's stool.

"We have one last student to sort," Dumbledore announced as he stood and addressed the students, and a murmur ran through the crowd. "He comes from the Village of Kyoko in Japan, and Hogwarts will be his home for the next year. He represents a magical people from the Far East, and we are all representing Hogwarts, so I expect all of you to make a good impression, as we seek to form a friendly alliance with his far-away country. Please join me in welcoming Kakashi Hatake into our school." Dumbledore clapped as the entrance door opened again, and in walked the new student.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, his utterance one of many that had formed a chorus through the room. The new boy looked to be perhaps a third or fourth year, and he looked highly uncomfortable in his new Hogwarts robes. He was of average height but was decidedly thin, and very pale. There was a small scowl of utter displeasure on his face, and it was clear he didn't quite know what to do with himself as the crowd clapped rather bemusedly. But the reason for of most of the crowd's muttering came from two places, his silver hair—several voices were heard wondering aloud whether he had dyed it—and the simple black strip of cloth that he had tied around his head, covering his left eye.

The exchange student walked awkwardly to the stool and sat down on it, his expression one of supreme misery and suggesting that he would gladly give an arm, a leg, and his one uncovered eye to be somewhere else.

* * *

Kakashi cursed Dumbledore silently. '_Little ceremony' my ass. _He commented to himself as he looked out at the sea of faces, all of them turned and staring at his un-masked face and his ridiculously clad person. Feeling enormously self-conscious, he walked up to the stool as McGonagall-sensei had instructed him yesterday, carefully concealing the limp from his injured leg, and sat down, wondering rather frantically what he was supposed to do with his hands. Did he place them in his lap, or let them hang at his sides? He compromised by crossing them over his chest, and then began to wonder what to do with his feet. It was then that he realized his miserable scowl was entirely inappropriate for the situation, and tried to smile a little, but as expected the expression turned out as more of a grimace than anything particularly pleasant-looking. Again his anger flared at Dumbledore; if he had been allowed to wear his mask this would not be a problem. 

But soon McGonagall approached with that peculiar old hat, and he tried his best not to flinch when she placed it on his head. He waited for something to happen. Nothing did.

"Well, hello there," Kakashi jumped as the whispered voice sounded in his ear, and then he realized it was the hat itself, and it was talking to him—just as McGonagall had told him it would. "Exchange student, are you? I've seen three of your kind before, young shinobi, but I've never sorted one; you are the first." The voice paused thoughtfully, and Kakashi felt the peculiar sensation that his memories and thoughts were being examined.

"Hmm." The hat hummed, "You're a tricky one, aren't you? You've seen quite a lot, I can say that much. You're bitter, jaded. And exhausted down to the bone. Even now you are carrying an enormous burden of raw grief." Kakashi inhaled sharply, surprised, but quickly regained his composure.

The Sorting Hat continued, "A few years ago, I can see I would've sorted you into Slytherin without a second thought. But now I'm not so sure. The death of your friend Obito changed you, didn't it, Kakashi? You're confused, aren't you, torn between loyalty to your friends and to your mission. Your devotion is split between two opposite ends of the spectrum: your duty, and your comrades. Before Obito Uchiha, all your life's experiences told you to disregard the lives of your companions, but now you've been sent mixed messages. Poor boy, you must be so very confused."

Kakashi scowled. "Watch it," he growled out of the side of his mouth, and somewhere, a more rational Kakashi wondered how he could've sunk so low as to demean himself by threatening a hat.

But said hat seemed quite undeterred. "So, Kakashi Hatake, is it Slytherin for you, or Gryffindor? It's quite hard to tell. So, tell me, what do you want?"

"What do _I_ want?" Kakashi hissed discreetly, "How the hell should I know? I don't care."

"Are you so sure?"

"Absolutely. Quite sure," Kakashi snapped, feeling immensely foolish and rather affronted that his judgment was being challenged by a talking hat, of all things. "Frankly I don't think it matters one way or another, anyway."

"Of course it doesn't," The hat said indulgently, its quiet voice dripping with insincerity. "If you don't want to give your say, I'll just have to think it over myself." With that the hat fell silent, and Kakashi intently looked everywhere but at the crowd staring at him, carefully keeping his face completely expressionless, and hoping that it was as convincing as it was when he was hidden behind the safety of his mask.

Kakashi was still there several minutes later, listening to the hat's "hmm"s and "haa"s with growing mortification. Why wouldn't it choose already? He had been sitting here, on this stupid stool with his arms crossed childishly and an oversized and considerably old talking hat perched on his head, for far too long. Did it somehow enjoy this? But very suddenly it cleared it's proverbial throat and announced in a loud voice, "Gryffindor!" With a certain relief, Kakashi whipped the hat off his head and strode down to his assigned table, which had burst out into highly enthusiastic cheers.

As soon as he sat down, two violently red-haired twins immediately set upon him with questions such as "How'd you get your hair that white?" and "What's under the headband, eh, Kakashi?" and even "What kind of name is 'Kakashi,' Kakashi?"

"Oh, leave 'em alone, Fred, George," Another smaller red-haired boy said with a roll of his eyes. "Bloody idiots." He held out his hand to introduce himself. "Ron Weasley. Welcome to Hogwarts,"

"Er, yeah," Kakashi muttered as he shook the red-haired boy's hand, feeling awkward.

A brown-haired girl spoke up from beside Ron Weasley. "So, you're from Japan, then? That's fascinating! I didn't know there were any wizarding communities so far east. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. Nice to meet you, and welcome to Hogwarts!"

"Uh huh," Kakashi said rather bemusedly as he shook her proffered hand, and submitted himself to being introduced to at least half the inhabitants of the table. But the only one he was truly interested to meet was Harry Potter, the black-haired boy sitting next to the Weasley boy, with very green eyes. So it was this one that he was supposed to guard, eh? He looked more or less as Kakashi had imagined him: scrawny, with messy jet-black hair, stupid glasses, and a lightning-shaped scar smack in the middle of his forehead. If he squinted at the scar hard enough, it looked almost like a lowercase "l." _L for loser, _Kakashi thought decidedly, and contented himself with this notion for a while as the red-haired twins continued to harass him about this and that and whatever else.

But presently Dumbledore stood to speak again, and they were forced into silence. "To show their goodwill, the wizards of Kyoko Village have sent a squad of special wizards to aid in guarding the castle, and prevent certain…" he paused, choosing his words carefully, "Breaches in security that seem to have been popping up lately. Please join me in a warm round of applause,"

Dumbledore turned toward the door as six shinobi walked in, each dressed in full ANBU regalia, complete with katana, and wearing fearsome red and white masks over their faces. The shinobi bowed to Dumbledore, and divided themselves so that two stood stiffly by each exit, looking positively formidable.

"Bloody hell," Ron murmured.

Kakashi resisted the urge to smirk. Of course, these were only bunshins that he himself had created just minutes before the sorting, at Dumbledore's request. To be frank, Konoha barely had nearly enough manpower after the war to spare Kakashi himself, much less a complete ANBU squad. So, he had simply performed a Kage Bunshin and henged the clones into nameless ANBU of various shapes and sizes. Of course this would consume much of his chakra if he was forced to maintain the jutsu, but Dumbledore had assured him that he would only be responsible for guard duty when informed by a teacher.

"Oi, do you know those blokes?" Fred (or George, he couldn't tell which) whispered, nudging Kakashi in the ribs.

"No." The shinobi replied stonily.

"Yes you do, surely you traveled with them, right?" insisted the other twin.

"No."

Both twins blinked. "Why not?"

"They don't like me very much." He said flatly.

"Oh?"

"They don't like anyone very much. I would advise you not to seek out their company." An ANBU near the southernmost entrance turned to stare at them silently, her Rat mask flickering eerily in the candlelight. Kakashi watched her for a moment, putting a worried look on his face, before turning away as if intimidated.

"She's sort of hot," Fred whispered, but he did so very quietly. "I mean, that _is _a lady, right?" He turned back to check, but instantly paled—the ANBU was cracking the knuckles of her long-gloved hands, the eyes behind the Rat mask flashing.

"They're not very friendly." Kakashi said, hiding the small smirk in his voice. He turned back and noticed that the entire section of table was listening, many of them glancing nervously at the ANBU bunshins. _Good, learn to fear them, idiots. _Kakashi thought. It was best to keep the bunshins away from human contact; they never had been very good at human interaction, and couldn't be expected to defend themselves from certain questions whose answers could cause Kakashi embarrassment.

Dumbledore was continuing with his announcements. He announced that the Triwizard Tournament would be held for the first time in decades, sending a resounding stir through the crowd, and revealed also that two other schools, Durmstrang of Bulgaria and Beauxbatons of France, would be sending Triwizard Champion hopefuls around October. "However, due to the sheer number of fatalities in the past, only students aged seventeen or older may enter," he said, and a great cry of protest rose from the students.

"That's rubbish!" Fred and George screamed in unison, and were joined by several agreeing declarations shouted from all corners of the crowd.

"You will find it supremely difficult to defy this rule," Dumbedore shouted above the protests, "Because I have arranged for an Age Line to be set up around the admission area."

Fred was heard loudly scoffing, "Yeah, like any age-line rubbish is gonna hold back Fred Weasley."

Dumbledore ignored them steadfastly, but his eyes twinkled amusedly behind his half-moon glasses. "The only exception to this," Dumbledore continued, "Will be in the case of our Japanese exchange student, Kakashi, who's village can only send one student at this time due to some difficult circumstances. If Mr. Hatake is able to outwit the age-line and submit his own name without the help of his peers, he will be instantly chosen to participate in the tournament."

Kakashi inwardly sighed, his expression long-suffering. Sandaime had already told him of this foolish _Triwizard Tournament _back in Konoha, and had furthermore assigned him to participate in it as one of the parameters of his mission. But he really had hoped Dumbledore wouldn't announce the fact to the whole school…but alas. Kakashi glanced back and saw that many of his new classmates, particularly those under seventeen, were staring at him with predatory looks on their faces. He turned away with a sigh.

Kakashi found himself tuning out as Dumbledore started on school rules and expectations; he really couldn't care less. So instead he gazed around the cavernous great hall while the headmaster's strong, baritone voice engulfed every inch. It was raining outside, if the weather-mirroring ceiling was anything to judge by, but Kakashi longed to leave the castle and explore the grounds. He had already toured some of the castle, with all it's mysterious shape-shifting and morphing architecture, but behind Kakashi's tough facade he was intimidated by it. He felt choked by something unseen, something that flowed thickly through the very air, the lifeblood of the castle. He could feel the stonework shifting minutely beneath his feet, and he understood that the castle was alive, and it was breathing. He felt that if he stayed too long, he would be consumed by it. The outdoors would be a welcome return to familiarity.

His daydreaming was interrupted when Dumbledore announced, "Let the feast begin!" and he returned abruptly to reality. Kakashi watched with amazement as food sprang onto the plates, strange, foreign foods with deliciously overpowering scents that invaded his senses and made his mouth water. He had to admit, these western wizards at least knew how to cook.

The meal was half an hour in, and the other Gryffindors had finally tired of pestering Kakashi with questions, when the heavy, oaken entrance doors banged open and a man walked in. The entirety of the great hall turned to look at the man as he entered. His face was hideously marred by numerous scars and a sizeable portion of his nose missing, and, most startling of all, a vividly blue eye that bulged out of it's socket and swiveled around the room, completely independent from it's pale brown counterpart. Kakashi noticed with unease how the eye settled momentarily on his bunshins, and how it then scanned the crowd briefly, coming to rest upon him in seconds.

"Ah!" Dumbledore rose and raised his glass to the man, who didn't take that unnerving eye from Kakashi's face even while the headmaster greeted him. "My good friend, Alastor Moody. I am so glad you've made it."

The new arrival finally took his eye off of Kakashi as he returned Dumbledore's greeting, and this time the eye made a few more rounds across the room before settling on Harry Potter. It remained locked upon him for several minutes, and it made Kakashi nervous.

Alastor Moody drew a hip flask out of his pocket and sat down at the teacher's table, as Dumbedore told the student body that the man was to be their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Kakashi watched him from the corner of his eye as the feast continued, studying that swiveling blue eye. What was it, some sort of variation of the Byakugan? He didn't think so, because he couldn't sense any chakra about it, so it had to be a device derived from magical energy. He didn't like how that eye kept flicking back and forth between his bunshins and himself, scrutinizing them, as if he knew what they really were.

"I wish he'd stop staring at me," Harry Potter muttered to his friends. "It's unsettling. I can just feel that eye boring into my back," Kakashi silently agreed. That man was unnerving, and while his normal brown eye remained fixed on the faces of his fellow teachers as they exchanged polite conversations, the magical eye spent most of it's time looking at Potter boy and Kakashi.

"So that's Alastor Moody," Ron said with an admiring glance. "My dad told me about him. He used to be an auror, you know, and one of the very best, too."

"What's an auror?" Harry frowned.

"It's like an agent of the wizard Intelligence Agency," Hermione said, "They hunt down followers of You Know Who and get rid of them. They're the very best."

Kakashi blinked. _You Know Who? _No, he didn't know who. So he asked after the mousy-haired girl had gone back to her dinner, so as not to indicate that he was interested in joining the conversation.

"His name is Voldemort," Harry said before Hermione could finish chewing. Everyone who heard him say the word flinched. "He's the most powerful and evil wizard who ever lived, and people don't like to say his name here."

Kakashi nodded in acknowledgement and went back to his food. Yes, Dumbledore had told him about Voldemort, and exactly how dangerous he was: which was very, and how the Potter boy had somehow managed to vanquish him fourteen years ago and escaped with only a scar on his forehead. How touching. Not.

After the feast, as the masses were dismissed, one of the Prefects approached Kakashi as he hung at the edges of the huge mass of students sifting through the exits, and told him that Dumbledore wanted to talk. The Headmaster took him into a side room off the great hall and informed him that it would be prudent to keep guards up tonight. "Your bunshin clones should be sufficient for awhile while you get some rest," Dumbledore told him, "As long as they're capable of fighting until you can get to them."

"Yes sir," Kakashi said, and he saluted. "The clones are excellent fighters and can neutralize an opponent, though they can be destroyed with a single hit. However, using a teleportation jutsu, they can easily notify me of any threats and I can get there in seconds."

Dumbledore nodded, and there was something Kakashi didn't like in his gaze. It looked a lot like regret, and worse, pity. "Thank you, Kakashi-san," Dumbledore said. "Remember that classes start tomorrow at nine AM. My friend Sandaime says you've acquired a bad habit of being late, so please at least _try _to be punctual." He smiled at Kakashi. "You may go to the Gryffindor common room, where you will be living for the remainder of the year. Your things are already there. You are dismissed."

The shinobi saluted and performed a teleportation jutsu straight up to the Gryffindor common room; he knew where it was from McGonagall's tour the previous day. No one had arrived yet when he popped into the large, warmly decorated common room; they were all probably still navigating the constantly shifting stairways. So Kakashi headed up the stairs to his dormitory, and he saw that the door was marked with the names of five other students, among them Potter boy and his red-haired friend. He opened the door and found himself in a largish circular room, with six four-poster beds positioned along the walls. Kakashi hated the idea of sharing a room with five non-shinobi, but he supposed he would just have to make the most of it. At least there were curtains to draw around the beds, so they couldn't see him while he was vulnerable in sleep.

He quickly found his bed and sat down on it, looking around. Tobi the potted plant was sitting on his bedside table next to the lamp, its leaves twitching contentedly, and the numerous packages Kakashi had brought from Diagon Alley were neatly stacked at the foot of his bed. Kakashi quickly pulled off the cumbersome robes and slipped into his normal outfit, a loose-fitting navy-blue shirt and standard-issue Jounin pants and shoes. Finally he slipped his mask over his face and adjusted the headband over his eye, and lifted up his pant-leg so he could change the bandages on his wound. But first he positioned the curtains so the could not be seen from the door, but he could watch the rest of the room. He knew one thing for sure right off the bat; this Dumbledore idiot clearly intended to help Kakashi help himself make friends, even if it killed the both of them.

* * *

Most of the Gryffindors were looking forward to meeting their strange, quiet foreign exchange student in person, but during the party that ensued after the feast, the new student was nowhere to be found. Hermione suggested that perhaps he got lost, but that seemed rather unlikely, and the celebration went on into the night, until McGonagall dispersed the partying students. 

Neville found Harry and Ron halfway through the party, as they were about to head upstairs to go to bed. "Don't go up there," Neville said.

"What? Why not? It's our bloody dorm,"

"_He's_ up there," Neville whispered. "The exchange student. He's a fourth year Gryffindor; it's his dorm now. I went up there, because I don't like parties, and he was sitting there on his bed changing bandages on his leg, and wearing this mask over his face," he swallowed nervously. "He has these tattoos over his ankle and his right hand…he's creepy."

"Oh come on, Neville," Ron said with a roll of his eyes. He seized his arm and the three of them started walking towards their dorm. "I'm sure he's a decent bloke. He's foreign, Neville, you have to expect some quirks."

They went up to their dormitory and Harry immediately noticed the new name on the plate mounted on the door. "Kakashi Hatake," Harry read aloud.

"Wait!" Seamus and Dean were coming up the stairs. "Don't tell me he's in our dorm!" Seamus exclaimed, looking excited.

Harry nodded. "I guess he is." Then he knocked on the door and the five of them went inside. The room looked a bit bigger than it had, and there was an extra bed with brown parcels heaped up around it. The curtains were drawn around the bed so the person inside could not be seen from the door. "Um," Harry said uncertainly, "Hello. I'm, uh, Harry. I believe we met at dinner."

There was a rustling behind the curtains, and the silver-haired kid came out from behind them. He was wearing dark, loose muggle clothes and a black cloth mask over his face. Only his right eye was showing of his face. He nodded briefly at his new dorm-mates.

Dean, Neville, and Shamus, all introduced themselves, and in the awkward silence that followed, Dean said, "So, you're Kakashi, right? From Japan?"

"Yes," Kakashi said tonelessly, "Kakashi Hatake. From…Japan."

"Well, uh, alright then," Dean said.

"Do you want us to help you unpack?" Neville squeaked nervously, seeming to surprise even himself with this outburst.

"No," Kakashi said abruptly, and then, as an afterthought, "But thank you."

There was another mile-long silence, until Ron dismissed himself to unpack his own things, and the others followed suit. No one talked for several minutes, in which Kakashi sat on his bed and read something, looking rather annoyed with the lot of them. Finally he got up out of bed and headed towards the door, intending to leave and join his bunshin guards outside.

"We're not allowed to leave the common room after nine-thirty," Harry said, "Just in case that's what you're intending to do."

"Don't worry about it, Potter," Kakashi deadpanned, and closed the door behind him. He slipped through the nearly empty common room with ninja stealth, and managed to leave unnoticed by the perhaps half-dozen students still downstairs. The darkness behind the fat lady portrait was thick and inviting to the ninja, and he quickly located the nearest bunshin patrolling the seventh corridor.

"Nothing so far," the bunshin reported. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Not much, probably," Kakashi said, "The foolish headmaster just wants guards as a precaution. And probably for show as well," He henged into the ANBU's form, and dismissed the bunshin into a cloud of smoke and steam.

In the course of four hours of patrolling, he apprehended six late-wandering Gryffindors—Fred and George Weasley among them—along with four Slytherins who appeared to be attempting a prank on the Gryffindor house. He sent them back to their dorms with a demerit of five house points each, and resigned himself to a long, hard, and very troublesome nine months.

* * *

A/N: The idea of Kakashi hengeing his bunshins into ANBU guards originated from ANBUHound's fic, "Abysses." This story was inspired by that one, and it's awesome. So go read it. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: Midnight Skulking**

Well, here's chapter 6. I extend my thanks to everyone who's stuck with this story so far, (esp. those who review!) and I can't believe what a good response this fic has received. Thanks!

Um...off topic now, if anyone here considers themselves technologically savvy with mood-swingy Macintosh computers, please visit my profile page because I'm having computer issues. Please and thank you.

* * *

Kakashi went through his first day with something resembling apathy, and nearly crossing the border into boredom. For a school that practiced wizardry, of all things, these teachers sure knew how to make their subjects dull. It was like being in the Academy all over again. He listened to all their rules and expectations with his eyes at half-mast and an expression that said _I find your guidelines foolish and intend to ignore them_. Curiously, he seemed to share all of his classes with several Gryffindors, including Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Hermione Granger was also in most of his classes, although he had gathered that the mousy-haired girl preferred the more challenging courses and Kakashi only saw her in the grade-required courses. 

Dumbledore had arranged his schedule to include all of the core fourth-year classes, and he would be meeting with the teachers of the standard first, second, and third year subjects during extra tutoring sessions.

The shinobi returned from his first day of classes exhausted from boredom and in foul temper. He had gotten caught in some sort of demonic stair-step after third period, and was left to struggle helplessly with his foot caught in the trap while other students laughed and continued on their way. Finally a sixth-year Gryffindor had taken pity on him and helped him escape.

He hurried back up to his dorm room after his last class ended, not teleporting for fear of attracting attention, and slipped into his training clothes. He pulled his mask up over his face with relief, and a sigh of contentment escaped his lips. It had taken considerable effort to maintain his self control without his mask to hide behind. He fastened his kunai holster around his leg and shrugged his ANBU katana over his shoulders, and headed out onto the grounds. He ran as far and fast as he could, until he estimated he was about five miles from the school and perhaps ten or fifteen miles from the edge of the grounds. He spent the next two hours training rigorously, confident that he was finally out of sight and out of mind, and completely alone.

* * *

Professor McGonagall scowled and glanced at the time. The boy was late. Not that it was a surprise, really, she had decided the moment she saw Kakashi Hatake that he was a child who followed his own agenda, and that wasn't a good thing. She sighed and sat down in her chair, and waited. 

The silver-haired boy came in fifteen minutes later, his hair still dripping from his hasty shower and dressed in a navy blue shirt and black pants, with that dark cloth mask over his face and the headband over his left eye.

"You're late," McGonagall said stiffly and stood as Kakashi shut the door behind him.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Kakashi replied, all traces of what was left of his exercise-induced good mood fading fast. "I lost track of the time. The grounds really are beautiful."

"Mm," McGonagall narrowed her eyes at the mask. "That mask, Hatake. I don't appreciate teaching to someone I can't see."

Kakashi looked uncertain, his fingers rose to linger hesitantly at the edge of the thin fabric. "I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall, but…can I please keep it—?" he broke off, sensing that there was no argument. He reluctantly pulled the cloth over his head.

McGonagall smiled thinly. "There. Much better." Her smile wavered as she saw the expression in the boy's downcast eyes. He clearly didn't wear that mask just to get on people's nerves. She decided to come out and ask him right away, "Why do you cover your face, Hatake? I can't see anything wrong with it,"

Kakashi just scowled. "Can we please begin the lesson, Professor?"

"Certainly. I trust you brought your wand? Good. Now, how far have you read in your textbooks, Hatake? I know this is only your first day, but if you think you know anything you may as well show me now."

And so he did. The lesson continued for two hours, and McGonagall had to admit that the boy was impressive. He seemed to have read ahead in his textbooks, and had figured out how to do a few basic spells. He advanced very quickly using the parallels between chakra and magical energy, and soon McGonagall was already teaching him how to transfigure a match into a pin. She was pleasantly surprised that Kakashi seemed to be an excellent student. He listened well, learned fast, and wasn't nearly as cheeky as she had expected him to be.

"Good work, Hatake," she nodded at him, and rewarded him with one of her rare smiles. "Next lesson you will meet with Professor Snape in the dungeon. You are dismissed." She watched the boy go with a puzzled expression. She had been mildly surprised to learn what a good student the boy would be, despite his tardiness, and the fact that he didn't seem in the least bit delinquent or antisocial. He was quiet and introverted, sure, and he never really seemed to be completely in the same world as everybody else. But perhaps that was all right. She could learn to work with that.

* * *

Kakashi painstakingly finished carving his sensei's name into the old tree's smooth trunk, and stood back to admire his handiwork. Next he placed the flat stone onto the depression he had carved into the tree branch just below the names, and tested to see that it was balanced steadily. He struck a match and used it to ignite a dead stick he had picked up in the woods, and pressed the flames into his important peoples' names, blackening the inscription and burning it into the old oak tree's trunk. He licked his thumb and brushed the ash out of the clefts, and finally he was satisfied. At the top he had written, "In Memoriam" in his best Kanji, and under that, side by side, he had written "Uchiha Obito," "Mansori Rin," and "Uzumaki Arashi." 

He had constructed the makeshift shrine about a third of the way up the trunk of a huge old oak tree in the depths of the grounds, about fifteen feet above the ground. The tree was located deep in the little-traveled parts of Hogwarts' grounds, about four or five miles away from the school, on the fringes of the forbidden forest and with a view of the Great Lake and mountains beyond. It was truly a beautiful view. He struck a second match and lit the sticks of incense he had brought along, and placed them gingerly on the rock slab. He sat back for a moment and listened to the night noises around him, the thousands of tiny insects whose melodies somehow seemed to add to the silence. The smell of smoke mingled gently with the scent of the wooded night air, and in the darkness the young shinobi was overcome with the memories of his team, and the many nights they had spent in forests just like these, with the smell of dying embers surrounding them and the chirping insects singing. They were painful memories, so strong that he could close his eyes and pretend he was living one of them, and his heart longed to believe the forest's illusion.

Still crouched on the tree branch, Kakashi bowed to the shrine and said a prayer to his dead, and then he left.

* * *

On Wednesday, Kakashi arrived fifteen minutes late to his remedial lesson with Snape, which was better than the twenty minutes he had left McGonagall waiting, but the greasy-haired potions master was furious all the same. In retaliation, he subjected the shinobi to a rigorous two and a half hours of potions training. The subject itself Kakashi soon discovered to be fascinating, and it seemed he had a knack for it with his sensitive nose. He really would've enjoyed it had the teacher been anyone but Snape. Already the potions master seemed determined to hate him, perhaps mostly because he was in Gryffindor house. It also seemed that Snape was sorely disappointed that his newly acquired student actually possessed a certain talent for the subject. And although it was apparent that the potions master would like nothing better than to scathingly demean Kakashi, or (by the end of the lesson) push the shinobi forcibly into his flawless, yet very hot potion, there was absolutely nothing to criticize about the boy's performance. And that made Snape very angry indeed. 

Even so, Kakashi went through the lesson patiently, ignoring the unpleasant man's dark scowls and muttered insults, and by the end of it he had successfully concocted a potion that would cure warts in any person, animal, or otherwise. Snape dismissed him with a disdainful curl of his lip, and as Kakashi gratefully left the dungeon he heard Snape mumble something about his being "even worse than the Potter-brat." He smiled a bit, amused, and hurried back to the dormitories in order to retrieve his ANBU gear and go out for a night of training in the wilderness of the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

Kakashi returned feeling refreshed and content around two in the morning, and then remembered that he had homework to do. It sort of ruined the feeling… he trudged back to the common room, stealthily avoiding a teacher and two ghosts, and stood before the fat lady portrait. 

"Pixie sticks," Kakashi whispered, glancing up and down the hallway for people of authority.

The Fat Lady awoke with a snort and blinked at Kakashi. "What are you doing, dearie?"

"I'm keeping curfew," Kakashi replied with a roll of his mismatched eyes. "Pixie sticks, please let me in."

"It's two in the morning," the Fat Lady said, looking peevish. "I think you can just wait out there until dawn, dear, perhaps you'll remember that the next time you decide to come in after curfew." With that she turned away in her frame and went back to sleep, and soon the hall was filled with her snores. Kakashi momentarily considered simply kicking through the portrait, but then decided that his superiors on this mission might not look kindly on such a thing. So instead he turned around and went back towards the staircase, intending to explore the castle while he had this perfect chance.

Fred and George had rather forcibly introduced him to a secret shortcut, when they tried to push him into it yesterday, so he went there. It was behind a bust of St. Barnaby, a monk with a shaved head and a pristine expression on his bronze face. He put his hand on the bust's ear and twisted sharply, and a panel slid back nearby. The shinobi pulled himself into the small space and let go of the rim, and his heart plummeted as he dropped. Soon his backside made contact with something hard and smooth, and he slid down the rest of the way to the second floor corridor, and tumbled ungracefully out of the corresponding trap door. He got to his feet and quickly leapt up to secure himself to the ceiling, and he continued walking in that manner for some time.

He passed unseen above the heads of two teachers and several ghosts on night watch, and also spotted two students making out in a side corridor. He ignored them and continued on his way. He found in the course of two hours that Hogwarts was far more interesting than the tour McGonagall had given him on his first day had suggested. He discovered two more secret passageways, a hidden room full of talking statues, and a narrow corridor, about two feet wide, that seemed to have no end. At three AM he was standing perplexedly in front of a strange portrait of a fruit basket. He knew something was behind it; he could smell food.

Then, suddenly, he heard a whispered voice, "Could've sworn Snape heard you sneeze," Kakashi stiffened. The voice was extremely close, but he hadn't sensed it coming because wizards had no chakra signatures…damn. He leapt up to the ceiling and sat tight as two Gryffindors came into view. They were no other than Fred and George Weasley.

"Well, we're clear of the guards," George said. "I'm just glad those Japanese blokes aren't on duty tonight."

"I know!" Fred exclaimed. "Remember last time? The tall one threw a knife at me!" Kakashi frowned. The bunshins weren't supposed to be throwing knives at students. That could get him in trouble…he would have to have a chat with them next time.

"A near miss, too," George said. He pulled his wand from his pocket and held it before him. "Lumos,"

Kakashi inwardly cursed as the wand lit up the corridor. If either one of them were to glance upward—

Fred glanced upward. "Well, hello there! Look who we've got here, George!"

Damn.

"Why, Fred, I do believe it's little Hatake, out for a midnight stroll. What're you doing up there, Hatake? Get down here!"

Kakashi sighed and released the chakra built up in his feet, and he dropped gracefully to the ground. "What are you two doing down here?" he inquired icily.

"We could ask you the very same question," Fred said.

"But we won't." George added.

"Because we follow a strict policy of 'don't ask don't tell.'" Fred completed.

"But since you did ask," George said. Each twin threw an arm around Kakashi's shoulders.

"We'll tell you." Fred finished.

"You're in for a treat, old boy."

"You were looking at that painting there, right? That, my one-eyed friend, leads to the most magical place in this whole bloody school."

"You never wondered how the food got up to the great hall, did you?"

"We did, and we found it."

"Just reach out and tickle the banana."

"Not that banana. _That_ one."

Rather bewildered by the twins' startling volley of words, Kakashi reached out and brushed his fingertips against the banana, waiting for something unexpected to happen.

"And say, 'cherry and chocolate tart!'"

Kakashi stepped back instinctively as the portrait swung open, to reveal a truly massive room full of blazing stoves and swarming little elf-creatures. A wall of heat and cooking aromas hit them, and the odd little elves stared at them with wide, blinking eyes before scurrying back to their tasks. Kakashi frowned uncertainly.

Fred shook his head. "Don't be shy, Hatake."

"They're quite used to us, you know. We've made a little deal with them. We don't tell the school where they can be found, and they give us food anytime we want!"

"It's truly an excellent arrangement."

Kakashi looked hesitantly into the room. Several little elves were pushing a cart of pastries in their direction.

"Now, before we go inside," Fred said.

"We have two questions." George finished.

"Number one: What spell was that you were using to stand on the ceiling?"

Kakashi blinked, and searched for words. "Uh…it's not a spell. Well, not a wizard spell. It's an ability specific to my country."

Fred and George raised their eyebrows. "That's not a very nice answer."

"That's racism, that is."

Kakashi shrugged. "Sorry? Look, my system of _magical energy, _call it what you will, is different from yours. I don't think wizards can do it."

"Well, why don't you try us."

Kakashi sighed. Well, it was easier to simply let them fail then to argue with them. "Fine. Go up to the wall, focus energy into your feet, and step up onto the wall." He stood back as Fred and George eagerly attempted to follow his instructions. They failed, miserably, and managed to look quite ridiculous in the process.

George frowned. "Is that really how it's done?"

"Yes." Kakashi answered humorlessly.

"I'm sure we just need practice," George said faithfully.

"Now, for question number two." Fred demanded.

"How do you plan to get your name around the age line to enter into the Tournament?"

"I don't." Kakashi deadpanned,

"What? That's not a good answer!"

"I don't intend to participate. It's not something I really want to do." The shinobi clarified. He looked at Fred's arm, which was still draped amiably around his shoulder, and made a gesture suggestive of physical harm to ensue if the offending limb was not removed.

"Dumbledore said you have to." Fred said confidently, but his arm dropped to his side all the same.

"Dumbledore said I have to _try." _The shinobi corrected.

"Then try, Hatake." Suddenly the twins' expressions were several degrees less friendly. "And tell us if you get it, are we clear?"

Kakashi sighed. "Sure."

George's gleaming smile reappeared on his face. "Excellent! Well, let's see what the kitchen elves have for us today, shall we?" He and Fred started forward in greedy anticipation, but when they turned back for Kakashi, they found nothing but the darkness of the corridor beyond the light of the blazing ovens. The siblings looked at each other briefly.

"Well, he seems to have disappeared. Rather odd chap, isn't he, Fred?" George said quietly, with a bemused expression gracing his face.

"Downright bonkers, more like." Fred corrected. "Well, he should at least make this year interesting."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: The Unforgivable Curses**

A/N: Well...after reading the 7th Harry Potter book (don't worry--I'm not about to spoil anything for those who haven't) my outlook upon certain characters has been forced to change. Well...that's bad, basically. Firstly I would like to note that I had this chapter written before I read book 7. Secondly, I will continue writing this story as I had planned, and I will thank the reader to look at this story as if you had just finished book 4, without whatever prejudices you may have formed after reading 7. Meaning that, all the opinions I had formed about people and situations after reading book 4 will remain as they were, unless changing it would mean only negligible effect on this story. So, uh yea. The reason for that long-winded note explained below...

This chapter contains mild Harry-bashing courtesy of Kakashi. I don't know about you, but Harry's whiny-ness has always gotten on my nerves. Beware of Kakashi angst, because Kakashi opens up a bit in this chapter, but rather explosively! I would describe it as a hissy-fit.

* * *

"Very good, Mr. Hatake." McGonagall said as she examined Kakashi's sparrow-turned-tea cozy. "Not a thread out of place. You're doing well." 

Kakashi bowed. "Thank you, professor."

"Well, to be honest, you've completed everything I had planned for today, and we've finished early. So I can either dismiss you now, or you can ask whatever question you've clearly been wanting to ask for at least the last half hour."

Kakashi opened his mouth to reply, but he didn't know what to say. Surely this transfiguration teacher didn't read minds? She was smiling complacently. "Uh, yes, professor. I actually, well, this doesn't really have anything to do with transfiguration, but, um, do you think I could, um…"

"Oh spit it out, boy! I don't have all day."

"The, you know, those broomsticks! I'd like to learn how to fly one." he finished breathlessly.

McGonagall smiled. She placed a hand on Kakashi's shoulder. "Well, we did finish early, and I think you've earned it. I can teach you the basics right now, if you like, and you can practice on your own time."

Kakashi bowed again. "Thank you, Professor."

Fifteen minutes later, the two of them were out on the field, Kakashi staring rather hatefully at the ragged broomstick before him.

"You need to think of the broom as a person, a real living thing to be respected!" McGonagall said again. "Remember, right hand out, and 'up!'"

Kakashi stuck his hand out and ordered the broom, "Up!"

"With feeling, Hatake! Emphasis! Make the broom feel the same excitement you feel!"

"Can't I just pick the stupid thing up?"

The professor shrugged.

Kakashi bent down and simply picked the broom up, and swung his leg over it. Nothing happened. He opened his hand and it dropped lifelessly to the ground. "This is stupid." He proclaimed foul-temperedly.

"You were the one who wanted to do it," McGonagall pointed out, "And if you're going to have a bad attitude about it, then I for one won't be sticking around." She turned away from the shinobi as he struggled with the lifeless piece of flying wood. "Talk to Madame Hooch if you want to check the broom out for practice. Just don't get yourself killed."

An hour later, Kakashi stood before Madame Hooch's desk, a scowl upon his face. The professor was rummaging in her desk for the rental forms. Finally she emerged with two pieces of parchment. "Now," she said, "Before you sign these, I must verify that you know enough about flying to use the broomstick safely. Come with me, it won't take half a minute."

"Uh," Kakashi halted her, "I don't actually know how to fly yet. I'm having a bit of trouble with the, uh, the 'up' part."

"Very well," Hooch said, "I have first-year classes tomorrow at eleven and one. They're still learning the basics. I believe the break period for fourth-years is at eleven, is it not?"

"Uh, yes," Kakashi said, he wasn't particularly pleased with the idea of joining a class of first-years, "But I really think I can get it on my own if I have access to—"

"Nonsense," Madame Hooch said. "The class will be held tomorrow, eleven AM, on the Quiddich field. I'll see you there."

* * *

A tow-headed little first-year was staring at him. So Kakashi stared back. Finally the boy broke eye contact and went to join a group of fidgeting children. He whispered something, and they all tittered excitedly. Kakashi's hand twitched towards the kunai he had hidden under his cloak. Another group of first-years were eyeing him nervously, and pushing a brown-haired boy forward. 

Kakashi glared down at the boy as he approached, who was intently looking everywhere but at Kakashi and fingering the hem of his cloak. "Um," he ventured.

"What?" Kakashi demanded, sans any semblance of friendliness.

"Uh, I wanna know what's under the headband!" the boy managed, before looking back to his giggling friends with a nervous grin on his face.

Kakashi rolled his eyes. "Nothing. It's just an empty socket. You can actually see my brain through it."

The child's face brightened. "Really? Eww! That's disgusting! Can I see?"

"Don't be ridiculous. One look is enough to kill you." The shinobi replied offhandedly.

The boy was about to make some sort of protest when Madame Hooch strode out onto the field. "Sorry about the interruption, class. Ah, Hatake, you're here. Fifteen minutes late, too." She tsk-tsked and shook her head, while the first-years giggled.

"Alright, quiet down. Now, of course you've probably already noticed Kakashi Hatake, here, our exchange student from Japan. Apparently they don't teach their students how to fly, so we'll have to teach him."

"Do they have broomsticks in Japan?" Innocently asked one of the smaller girls.

"No." Kakashi answered shortly.

"How come?"

Kakashi sighed and dragged a hand across his face. "Because we don't."

"Oh," the girl said. She looked at his hand for a moment, before finally taking a breath and asking, "Where'd you get the tattoos on your hand?" the class suddenly erupted with questions of the same nature. Kakashi scowled and let the cuff of his cloak drop over his hand to hide the markings. He was tired of all the questions about them; he had in fact picked up various tattoos after certain missions. The flame pattern on his hand, that circled around his knuckles and intertwined around his fingers, he had gotten two years previously to identify himself as one of the four survivors of an infamous and violent conflict that had arisen in Grass Country. Personally, he hadn't wanted to have the tattoos done, but had been bullied into it by his three remaining teammates.

Madame Hooch held up an impatient hand, "Quiet, Joy, and all of you." The children grudgingly quieted. "Now, today, class, you will be learning how to control your pitch and your yaw. Who can tell me what pitch is?"

No one raised a hand. Finally a short be-spectacled kid offered, "Well, on muggle ships and planes, it refers to the vertical angle of the bow verses the prow."

"Very good, Brian. The pitch is the vertical angle of your broom," she looked out upon the class. Most of them looked lost. "In other words, whether you want to go up or down."

Several students "Ahh"-ed in understanding. Kakashi rolled his eyes. This apparently was a mistake, because Madame Hooch caught it.

"Since you're obviously such an expert, Mr. Hatake, why don't you tell us what yaw is."

Kakashi sighed. He remembered learning this when he was four years old and learning how to throw a kunai. "Yaw is the angle around the vertical axis. Per se, to turn left or right."

"That is correct. Thank you, Mr. Hatake. Now, as several of you have already figured out, you control the pitch and yaw of your broom simply by weight distribution. Move your weight forward to move your pitch down, lean right to turn right, and so forth. It's highly instinctive but easy to get a grasp on. Now, everyone mount your brooms."

Kakashi sighed as he heard a chorus of "Up!" from the first-years, and most of their brooms sprung into their hands. Madame Hooch gave everyone a minute to succeed in calling the broom, and Kakashi remained to be the only one with his broom on the ground.

"Mr. Hatake is having trouble with this step." The instructor said. "None of you will be leaving the ground until Hatake has his broom up, so you'd all better get helping him." she smirked and stood back with her arms crossed.

Kakashi silently cursed the woman as a horde of first-years came eagerly to his aid.

"You're doing it all wrong!" one boy offered helpfully, "You gotta stick your hand out like _this, _see? Up!"

"No, no, Blake doesn't know what he's talking about," a red-haired girl said, "I think it's in your tone, see, you're being mean to it."

"Maybe it just doesn't like you!" A boy said, grinning impishly.

"Well, he better hurry up and get it, 'cause I'm getting bored!" a pale brown-haired boy said with a scowl.

Kakashi glared at him; he was severely unaccustomed to being the dead-last requiring remedial help. That was supposed to be Obito's role. A pang of alarm shot through his stomach as he wondered if perhaps Obito's eye was taking over his body…

"You're boring it," insisted the red-haired girl. "You have to have more feeling."

"It's a piece of wood!" Kakashi insisted.

"No," the girl corrected, shaking a finger at him, "It's a person, and you have to treat it like one. Be nice to it and it'll do what you want, you can't just order it around like you're better than it is."

Kakashi blinked. This girl's philosophy of broom-flying went against everything he had learned as a shinobi. Objects didn't spring to your bidding because you were nice to them. When Kakashi was in charge of a squad, those shinobi under him—Konoha's weapons—followed his orders because that was what they were supposed to do. They didn't do it because he added a "please" and "thank you" after every command or because he gave each one a hug every morning.

"Well, go on. Try it," the girl insisted. "Think of the broom as your own personal friend!"

"We could name them!" one of her friends squealed suddenly. The girl opened her mouth in glee and she and several other girls ran off to concern themselves with the naming of their brooms.

"Hurry up!" the pale boy from before insisted.

"Up," Kakashi commanded. The broom didn't so much as jiggle.

The pale boy groaned, and he and several friends turned away to occupy themselves elsewhere.

"Alright, alright," Madame Hooch interceded. "The rest of you, hover a few feet above the ground and practice your pitch and yaw. Spread out and keep it below ten feet." The class cheered and set about to their assignment. Madame Hooch turned toward Kakashi. "Show me what you're doing, Hatake."

Kakashi obeyed. He put his hand above the broom, "Up."

"Mm hmm," The teacher nodded, "Miss Kinsley was right, you're treating the broom like an object. You need to stop thinking of it as a tool and start thinking of it as a partner. Do you understand what I mean? The broom will not respect you until you show it respect."

Kakashi nodded numbly. How was he supposed to treat the broom like anything _but _a tool when he thought of his own subordinates, living people, as such? Even, when he thought of himself as such? "Up," he said again.

Madame Hooch shook her head. "Keep at it, Hatake. The problem is all in your mind. Once you can get past it, then you will succeed, mark my words." She walked away to help some other students, one of which had gotten his broom stuck upside-down.

By the end of class, Kakashi had sat down on the lawn and was fingering the kunai he had hidden under his robes, contemplating what he could do to his broom with it.

"Alright, Hatake," Madame Hooch said. "Class is over, and you still can't call your broom. I'm going to give you permission to borrow that broom so you can take it somewhere where you can concentrate and practice there. I'm quite sure it's just a flaw of your thinking." She led him to her office and had him sign the required forms, and sent him back to his dormitory.

* * *

Kakashi took his time on his way to Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He didn't really feel like showing up, what with all the buzz going around school about how incredible this class was. The bell rung while he was still making his way down the second-floor corridor, but he did not increase his pace. Frankly, he wanted to see how this Mad-Eye Moody would react to some good old-fashioned goading. So when he arrived at Mad-Eye Moody's classroom, he did not go in right away, but instead waited outside the door and listened. He heard laughter, which abruptly ended, and the teacher began making a speech. 

"Now imagine if I did that to you. I could make you jump off a bridge, or drown yourself, or kill your best friend and you'd have no choice but to obey. Still funny?" the former auror paused. Kakashi could almost hear the brats gulping in anticipation. "You can come in, Hatake," Mad-Eye's voice almost made Kakashi jump, "You don't need an invitation."

Kakashi opened the door and stepped inside, and all the children turned to stare at him with peculiar looks on their faces that suggested, _You should've seen what we just saw. _Kakashi sat down at his chair and smiled plastically. "Sorry I'm late, Professor. I was walking down the third floor corridor when I saw that Peeves had stolen some poor first-year's books, so of course I—"

Moody cut him off. "Stop your blathering, Hatake. I know all about you and your late tendencies. You've just missed something very important, boy. Who would like to tell Hatake what he missed?"

No one raised their hands.

"No one?" Moody said softly, "Well then, perhaps I'll just demonstrate on you, eh Mr. Hatake?"

Kakashi stood his ground and made sure his expression indicated the essence of boredom. "I know what you did, sir," he said disinterestedly. "Mind control of some sort, no? On one of those spiders, I would assume. Very impressive, sir, you've certainly won my respect."

The whole class froze at this blatant show of insolence. But to their surprise and relief, Moody burst out laughing. "Yes, yes indeed Mr. Hatake, you are a sharp one, aren't you? I'm sure you can think of many more uses for this curse than what I just demonstrated." Moody's magical eye fixed on Kakashi's left eye. "That eye, under your headband," he said softly. Kakashi froze. The whole class turned around to stare. There was an eye under there?

Moody chuckled softly. "Yes, I can see it, boy. I bet you could do lots of useful things with that eye, couldn't you? Tell me, Kakashi Hatake, where did you get it? Because I'm quite sure it isn't yours."

Kakashi said nothing.

Mad-Eye shrugged. "Alright then. Perhaps Mr. Hatake can tell us the name of the next curse. Judging by that tattoo on his shoulder, he'd know all about this subject. That's an ANBU tattoo, isn't it, Hatake? I've seen one of those before."

Kakashi was dumbfounded. This man knew ANBU? "I don't know what you're talking about." He said. "I got it in Prague, on vacation."

Mad-Eye just laughed. "Of course. Who can tell me the name of the second curse?"

The tension was tangible in the classroom, each student waiting for someone else to put their head on the chopping block. Neville Longbottom raised a quivering hand. "There is one, t-t-the Cruciatus Curse." He said in no more than a whisper.

Mad-Eye nodded. "That's right, lad. Who can tell me what this curse does?"

Silence from the class.

"Torture. It causes unbearable pain to the victim, for however long the user fancies. Pain, children, is a very useful tool. Isn't that right, Hatake?"

Kakashi said nothing. Very suddenly, he remembered that room, that voice from five years ago. That fear, that pain, that stench of blood…

Mad-Eye waited for a moment, before asking one simple question, "Did you give in, Hatake?"

Kakashi slammed a fist down on the table. "Stop your drivel, you crazy old man. I have no idea what you're talking about."

Moody's mild smile faded a bit. Wordlessly, he drew a spider out of the jar and yelled, "Crucio!" Instantly, the spider began to writhe and squirm in agony, its legs twitching spastically as it rolled onto it's back, its tiny body flexing desperately. Moody began to chuckle, as he jerked his wand up and down playfully.

"Stop it!" Hermione screamed suddenly. She leapt from her seat and pointed at Neville. "Can't you see you're disturbing him?!" Neville was indeed staring at the spider with a look of horror on his face, his breaths quick and shallow.

Moody's smile faded, and he ended the curse. The spider laid on it's back, twitching and jerking in discontent. The professor dropped it back into the jar, his magical eye lingering on the trembling boy.

"The last curse." He said quietly. "Who, then, can tell me its name?"

Hermione slowly raised her hand in the air, and looked sick of herself upon doing so, "A-Avada Kedevra," she said in a tremulous, quiet voice. "The last curse is Avada Kedevra." Her eyes shifted briefly to look at Harry.

Kakashi shifted in his seat. The second curse had been interesting, but he had a feeling Morino Ibiki, the son of the Head of ANBU's Torture and Investigation squad, could've done better without breaking a sweat. Really, pain was all well and good when it came to torture, but why take all the trouble to clean up the blood when you could simply turn the victim's psyche to mush?

Anyhow, he was interested to see what this last forbidden curse was. Harry Potter seemed especially disturbed by the prospect of it, judging by the way his teeth were grinding together and his hands were clenching under the desk.

Mad-Eye Moody's fingers closed carefully around the next hapless spider, and put the terrified creature on the desk. It scuttled around frantically, but before it could escape, the words came, "_Avada Kedevra!" _There was a flash of green light and a rushing sound from above, as if something terrible and unseen was swooping down to claim the spider's life. Several people screamed. Harry stared straight ahead, his eyes transfixed as the green light faded, as the voices of his dying parents played over and over in his head.

The light faded to reveal the spider, now dead and lifeless on the table. "The Avada Kedevra," Moody said quietly, both eyes fixed on Harry. "The last Unforgivable Curse, and the worst of them all. It causes instant death for the victim. There is no counter-curse or defense in existence, there never will be, and the only man to have ever survived the curse is sitting right here this room."

The class was silent, as Harry stared at the board, his face blank. But then, someone laughed. It was a very humorless laugh that obviously held no mirth whatsoever, but it was a laugh all the same. Harry's head swiveled furiously to face the offender.

"That's it?" Kakashi said, and he laughed again in a high, almost hysterical tone. "_That's_ the horrible third curse? A flash of light and an end of life? That's it!" he began to laugh again, his hands clenched on his knees, as the laughter came faster, torturing him.

Harry's eyes grew wide. "What did you just say, Hatake?!"

Kakashi's laughter abruptly stopped. "The Third Unforgivable Curse," The shinobi said quietly, and somehow a quill found its way into his hand, and he watched it thoughtfully as it spun between two fingers. "A flash of light and someone's life ends. Painlessly. Bloodlessly. Peacefully, really. In my country, a jutsu like this would be a mercy. And you people talk about it as if it's the worst thing imaginable." His voice rose. "I would give anything. _anything, _to have watched them die like _that_."

Harry felt his temper snap explosively, and for a few seconds he wanted nothing more than to have his wand pressed against the arrogant boy's neck. "Who are you, Hatake, to say anything?! Tell me, what the hell do you know about _anything_ that happened in this room today?! You think you can understand, well let me tell you, you _can't_! You didn't watch _that curse_ kill your parents before your eyes! So who the hell are you to say _a word_?!"

"You're right, Potter, that curse—a blessing, more like—didn't kill anyone I know. Would you like me to tell you how they died? Would you like me to tell you about the people _I_ loved?! What I would've given to have seen _any of them_ die by that spell, dammit, Potter, you tell me I don't know anything, well you don't know anything about death!" He was shouting now. The quill dropped to the desk with a clatter, and skittered across the desk onto the floor.

The whole class was staring now, Mad-Eye Moody with great interest, and Harry seemed stunned into speechlessness.

Kakashi's voice dropped to a silent growl. "You've never watched someone bleed and seen their eyes glass over as they began to die, you've never heard a person scream their last words at you, or cry and cry even as they clutch their hands at their stomach because there's a hole so big you can see their entrails through it. You've never watched someone lie in a puddle of their blood and choke to death on their own vomit. You've never heard the snap of human tendons, flesh and bone as you force a blade to cut through them. You've never held a dying comrade in your arms, as he asks you to tell his wife and kid how much he loves them, and wondered what you could've done to save him. You've never seen any of these things, Potter, I have. And what have you seen? A flash of light. Just a fucking flash of light, no blood, no pain, no screaming or curses or sobs. And you're sitting here complaining about it. Well, suck it up, Potter, because you're the one who doesn't know anything. There are much darker places in the world." Kakashi stood and walked to the door.

"I'm sorry for disturbing class, Professor." He walked outside and slammed the door behind him.

By the time he had made it out onto the grounds, Kakashi's face had already flushed red as he realized how much he had said. What had happened to him? Why had he suffered such a colossal lapse in judgment? He felt his own anger rising in his chest, as he sprinted towards the woods, and to the memorial he had made for those people he had loved.

What he would've given to have known that spell. So easy, so painless. Just a flash of green light and someone's painful life would gently end. If he had known that spell, he wouldn't have to lie awake at night for hours, while the screams of the men he had killed that day played over and over in his head. If he had known that spell, he wouldn't have had to run away from his father when he asked him, dying, his entrails spilling out all over the tatami mat, to sever his head from his neck and end his suffering. Perhaps, if he had known that spell, he wouldn't have to wash the blood off his hands even when there wasn't any on them, and perhaps he wouldn't have to hate himself so badly.

Just a flash of light and it would've been over. And these people saw not a blessing and a gift, but a curse to be feared and condemned.

Fifteen minutes later, he reached his memorial and sat down in front of it, and bent his head down as Obito's eye cried.

* * *

A/N: Hmm. I had a hard time trying to decide whether or not to include Kakashi's little outburst. It seems slightly out-of-character for him, but keep in mind that this is before his adult personality has developed, and, as he is characterized in this story, Kakashi is impulsive and easily angered. Besides, I thought this story needed a little more drama. Tell me what you think. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: The Hokage's Letter**

Sorry for updating late. I hope this chapter makes up for it. Although, actually, I don't like this chapter very much. It seems kind of disjointed and illogical. To be frank, most of this chapter is a lot like those lovely filler episodes we've been seeing so much of in the anime. But perhaps you can excuse me because this chapter was written under the influence of extreme fatigue and sleep deprivation.

Secondly, thanks to everyone who's been following this! I am absolutely overwhelmed by all the reviews I've gotten. Speaking of reviews, I'm trying really hard to reply to them, but things have been busy and I may or may not finish them all. So just be patient or something.

* * *

Harry and Kakashi avoided each other like the plague after that. The enmity between them festered as September turned to October, so much that Kakashi began avoiding sleeping in his dormitory and Harry made a point of sitting as far away from Kakashi as possible at any given time. Any unfortunate students sitting between the two of them could almost feel the killing intent radiating from them. 

Meanwhile, the news of Kakashi's outburst had spread over the school faster than Venomous Tentacula on dragon dung fertilizer, and Kakashi was mortified. He heard students whispering about him in the hallways and during meals, to the point at which he couldn't take two steps without grinding his teeth, and he was sure to get arthritis young from the number of times his hand twitched towards his kunai holster (which he did, indeed, wear despite Dumbledore's wishes). For a few days he seriously considered putting Sharingan-induced amnesia over the entire school.

For a period of almost a week, he was the ripe, juicy fruit sitting smack in the middle of the school's gossip vine, and Kakashi noticed that Potter boy seemed almost jealous of his usurpation of that glorious throne. Perhaps this one fact was the only thing that kept him sane (for back in Konoha, anyone who dared to gossip about Hatake Kakashi would have a one-way ticket to hell sitting in their mailbox) and Kakashi wondered when he had sunk to such a level of _Obito-ness_ that he would be smug in light of another's dislike of him. Despite all this, the shinobi doggedly continued his mission, and after awhile the gossip cooled down and he was able to relax again as much as a shinobi ever could, but there were some things that didn't cool down. Like Harry Potter's newly-acquired abomination of him.

"Harry, you can't keep hating Kakashi," Hermione scolded one evening, as she, Harry, and Ron sat around a chess game in their common room.

"Why not?" Harry snapped. "You heard what he said. He disrespected the death of my parents."

"I know what he said was cruel, Harry, but you must remember that we have no idea what he's seen."

"Course we do," Ron said, "He told us. Remember?"

"He's bitter, Harry. He doesn't understand what the Killing Curse means to our culture. He comes from a very different society with different values, and you can't just hate him because of what he said."

"Course I can." Harry said. "Just watch me."

"He doesn't understand," Hermione said again.

"Well he should!" Harry snapped in reply.

Hermione sighed. "You know, I haven't seen him near this common room since Monday. You're driving him away, which is bad for both him and for Gryffindor, because if he gets caught after hours he'll get house points taken away. You and he have to at least get on speaking terms."

"Why should I?" Harry insisted angrily.

"Harry, look outside. It's pouring out there, and he's probably wandering around outside right now. You know, he came here all alone, without anyone else, and already the two of you are worst enemies!"

"You feel sorry for him, do you?" Harry said. "Fine then, take his side."

Hermione scowled. "No, Harry, I am not taking anybody's side, why do you always have to say that? I just think someone needs to reach out to him."

Ron sighed. "Hermione, just leave it be."

* * *

Four and a half miles away, Kakashi clutched a dripping broomstick to his sodden clothes as he sat underneath his memorial tree. He angrily rubbed his head where a twig had dropped on it. He wanted to go back to Konoha, where he could at least be of some use before Orochimaru killed him, but no, here he was, sitting in the rain under a tree halfway around the world while sticks and leaves and even the odd caterpillar fell on his head. 

His fist tightened around the broomstick. Still, three weeks after his first try, he could do no more than make the stupid thing wobble. Clearly it was hopeless. He cast the broomstick to the ground a few feet away and sunk into the leaves, letting their soggy, itchy softness embrace him. He was so tired. But he had no desire to return to his dormitory, whether Potter was there or not. He simply wanted to go home. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. He hadn't slept in two days. Well, here was as good a place as any, so he rested his head on his cloak and drifted to sleep as the rain sung to him. He hoped he never woke up.

* * *

Professor McGonagall sighed deeply. The boy was late. Again. She was really beginning to grow weary of this cycle. She looked up as the door opened with a creak, and Kakashi walked in, looking very bedraggled. His hair was uncombed (even more so than usual) and his complexion even paler than it was normally. His eyes were glassy and a bit red around the rims. 

"Thirty-five minutes late, Hatake." Professor McGonagall said. "That's five points from Gryffindor for your tardiness."

Kakashi apologized woodenly. As if he cared.

McGonagall clucked disapprovingly as she looked over her student. "What on earth have you been doing to yourself, Mr. Hatake?"

Kakashi shrugged and stifled the urge to sneeze.

"Are you feeling quite alright?"

"I'm fine," Kakashi lied.

Minerva sighed. She might as well get on with it. "Sit down, Kakashi." The shinobi obeyed. "Now, some of the other students have been voicing concerns about you, Hatake. Apparently you haven't been in your dormitory for days. Not only is that against the rules, but also it is very bad for your health. So tell me, where have you been sleeping?"

Kakashi shrugged. "I've been in my dorm. Whoever told you that must've been wrong."

The professor smiled thinly. "I don't think so, Hatake. Listen, you are not allowed to sleep outside on the grounds! It's very dangerous, Hatake, especially with the Forbidden Forest so nearby. Now, as soon as we are done with today's lesson, I am taking you up to the infirmary, where Madame Pomfrey will give you a Pepper Up potion. You will then, from now on, be very careful to make sure you are in the Gryffindor house common room by curfew every night. We have ways of knowing, you can be sure."

Kakashi nodded. Somehow, he didn't quite believe her, judging by the way he always saw Potter and his friends slipping out, always with that odd silvery cloak under their arms. "Uh huh." He said anyway.

McGonagall seemed displeased by this response. "Is it Potter? I know you and he are at odds after Professor Moody's little…_demonstration_," she pursed her lips in distaste, "but the two of you must come to terms, because neither of you will be receiving any dorm reassignments or any other rubbish like that."

Kakashi blinked, "Uh huh."

The professor sighed. "Alright, Hatake. Get out your wand. Today you're learning how to do charms."

* * *

That night, at exactly 8:55 PM, the inhabitants of Gryffindor's common room saw Kakashi Hatake trudging sore-temperedly up to his dormitory, where he quickly got ready to go to bed and pulled the covers up over his head. No one saw any more of him that night. 

This was because, of course, bunshins that didn't do anything required much less chakra to maintain then bunshins that did, so the obvious choice was for Kakashi to send his clone up to bed and be done with it, while he himself stayed outside to train vigorously. It was raining again, of course, as Hogwarts seemed to have hit somewhat of a wet spell, but that didn't put him off in the least. He loved the rain. He always had. The storms had always been able to hide him from those things he most feared to face.

Sakumo had never been able to find him in the rain, even with a tracking dog, because the water washed away his scent.

He sighed at the memories, and found himself again wishing for home, as he flung a handful of shuriken at the target he had carved in a tree trunk. Four of the five hit. He swore; he was already getting rusty after a month of inaction.

He went to the tree and began plucking shuriken out of the wood, and paused as a wave of coughs racked his body. The Pepper Up potion McGonagall had made him take had done virtually nothing more than make his ears spew steam. It had cleared up his sinuses a little bit, and for a few hours he was no longer plagued by constant coughing, but as soon as he had ventured back into the rain the sickness had returned. Maybe wizard medicine didn't work well on shinobi.

Soon the coughing fit subsided and Kakashi pocketed his shuriken, and began to practice his taijutsu on a nearby tree. He was indeed getting rusty. And if a month of inaction could decrease his ability this much, god only knew what a whole year would do to him.

* * *

It was 2 AM when he finally snuck back up to Gryffindor common room, absolutely exhausted, after remembering that he had homework to do. So he cast a genjutsu on the fat lady's portrait, and she cheerfully let him in before going back to sleep, and Kakashi stalked over to the fire to dry himself off. He didn't bother to look around as he sunk into the chair; he could sense no chakra presences nearby. Which was why, of course, he didn't notice Hermione Granger until she spoke. 

"Hatake!" she said shrilly. Kakashi jumped out of his chair and spun around. Sure enough, the mousy-haired girl was sitting at a nearby table with several books and rolls of parchment stacked around her. The state of her hair suggested that she had been sleeping with her face in a book until a few seconds ago.

"W-what?" Kakashi snapped, thoroughly disconcerted.

"What were you _doing_ out there? I thought you were in your dormitory!"

"Ah, so I presume it was you, miss Granger, who informed Professor McGonagall of my late-night wanderings?" Kakashi said pleasantly.

"Yes, I was." The girl replied almost haughtily. "Look at you, you're soaked! Why did you sneak out? I'm telling Professor McGonagall you were outside again."

Kakashi shrugged. "Do what you like, Granger-san. Frankly I don't see what it has to do with you." He slipped his feet out of his sandals and began unwinding the protective bandages from around his ankles.

"You're going to get Gryffindor in trouble."

"Oh, is this all about that ridiculous house points thing? Honestly, Granger-san, I would think you would be smart enough to figure out that that's nothing but crap. I mean, what do you get for being the best House? A trophy and a little party. Nothing else. It's all just a ploy to keep dim-witted students in line."

Hermione scowled. "How about the moral satisfaction that you're doing something good for the school and for yourself? Does that mean nothing to you?"

Kakashi yawned. "No. Quite frankly, no, it doesn't, Granger-san."

"You really are jaded, aren't you? Honestly, I don't know what happened to make you so bitter but you still have a responsibility to yourself and to this school to do right, or at least not to do wrong."

"Oh? Says who?"

"Said _you_ when you agreed to come to this school!"

Kakashi laughed hollowly. "I didn't agree to anything."

"Then why did you come here?"

The shinobi turned to look at her. "I was ordered to, by my superiors. I have fulfilled any obligation with which I was tasked just by being here. Do you understand?"

Hermione opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then she opened it again. "No, I don't understand. You're a _student_, not a soldier. How can…"

Kakashi tsk-tsked mockingly. "Honestly Granger, I thought you were a smart one. But it seems you haven't done your homework. And so insensitive to differing cultures!" He raised his voice high at the end sarcastically, and turned to look at her. "Now if you don't mind I've got potions homework to do, so you can either give me yours, or let me do mine in peace."

Hermione looked down at her books, then back at the masked, pale-faced boy who was still staring pointedly at her. "Then," she said tentatively, "Then what you said, in Professor Moody's classroom…"

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. He was glad he had his mask to hide the blush that rose to his cheeks at the reminder of his humiliation. "What about it?"

"So it was all true?"

"No. Of course not, Granger-san, I made it all up just to stop Potter's whining." He smiled inwardly, and wondered if she would believe him. It always amused the shinobi how no one could ever tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

But the bushy-haired girl didn't look amused at all, and she huffily gathered her books in her arms and headed up the staircase to the girls' dormitories. "Goodnight, Kakashi," she said rather testily. "And good luck on that 8-inch paper for potions." She smiled victoriously at him, and stalked away.

* * *

Kakashi smiled as Tobi the potted plant twitched contentedly under the warming sun, as the shinobi sat in his room and read one of the books he had bought in Diagon Alley. Tobi had already grown quite a bit, and Kakashi saw several pod-like protrusions sticking out from the soil, which he knew contained various unfortunate insects that had become the plant's prey. Tobi was a good plant, and Kakashi was growing rather fond of it. 

The shinobi sat back against the pillows and turned the page. He was supposed to be in Transfiguration class right now, but his chakra was nearly spent from his training last night, and he figured two hours in Transfiguration would be more than enough to deplete it completely. So instead he had formed a simple dust bunshin, and sent it to class in his place. When the period was over, the bunshin would return and tell him what it had learned, and it would be like he hadn't missed anything at all.

So for now he was free to sit and read, at least for a few minutes, and allow his body to recover from the rigorous training he had been putting it through.

It was then, on that sunny, brisk October day, that Kakashi received his first word from Konoha since he had arrived at this school five weeks ago. The owl was small and flighty, but Kakashi saw it coming before it alighted upon the window sill and pecked at the glass with its beak. The shinobi opened the window and led the bird inside, and relieved it of it's burden.

He frowned when he saw the seal; it was not one he recognized, and as such could've been cursed. So instead of breaking the seal he found a kunai and carefully cut the parchment open around it, but upon opening it, he instantly recognized the writing as the Hokage's. It was in code, but Kakashi already distinguished it as one of the updated ANBU secret scripts, which were routinely written and discarded for the purpose of discreet communication. He read:

_ANBU Wolf, I was loath to send you this letter, as it could easily compromise your position, but there is disturbing news I must relay. As you know, as part of the Treaty, I have stationed operatives at all of the major Hidden Villages, to monitor for hostile activity in those villages that may be inclined to take advantage of our weakened state. Recently we lost contact with the operative at Rock, and just days later the ANBU I had assigned to watch Fog turned up dead. Just a week ago I received word that the one at Rain has been taken hostage. _

_You will be summoned if the situation gets very serious, but at this point we would be risking more by bringing you back home then by keeping you stationed where you are. Thus, at this point the order stands for you not to deviate from your current mission, and to do so without specific orders will result in serious consequences. I have contacted my acquaintance in your current position, and he has been told of our situation. You will be kept informed through him. _

_I'm afraid I have not been entirely honest with you, Wolf. Our relations with these people are already solid, you were never needed for diplomacy. The real purpose of this mission was to hide you from the Traitor of Leaf, but I'm sure you've already figured that out. In the midst of this new conflict, we have lost track of the Traitor, so please be extremely cautious, and keep a sharp eye out, for both the Traitor, and for members of the Villages that have broken the Treaty; we have reason to believe the two forces may be collaborating. Please do not do anything rash, and good luck._

And with that the letter ended, without so much as a signature at the end. A feeling of dread filled up in Kakashi's stomach. Not this. Not again. He didn't think he could bear to live through another war, after spending his whole life fighting and bleeding for one. He had seen seven months of peace, and he liked it. He couldn't bear to see it end, not yet. It was like giving him a pot of the best jimson tea in Fire Country and letting him take a single sip before snatching it away. It was simply cruel.

Bitterly, he formed the seals for a Katon Jutsu and watched the short note shrivel up and burn to ashes, along with his illusions. They were going back to war.

Some minutes later, the door opened and Harry and Ron came inside. Harry's expression instantly darkened. "What the hell did you do? I smell smoke!"

Kakashi turned to look at the other boy, his expression blank. There was a little pile of ash before him, the remains of the letter.

"What did you do to this room?" Harry said again.

Kakashi smiled, slowly, emptily. They were going back to war.

"Hatake?" Potter asked, frowning. "What's wrong with you?"

"Is he alright?" Ron asked, and Kakashi heard his voice as if from far away.

They were going back to war. Back to war. Back to fighting and dying and crying. But this time, he would have no one to drag him through it, would he? The last one had burned alive in Kyuubi's fire. He could still hear their voices…still see the writhing of his comrades as they died, fed to the flames that was the hideous beast of war, the same one that had failed to consume him for fourteen years, and had finally left him alone for six short months, but had come back to claim him the second time around. Well, he reasoned, he couldn't say it was unexpected. In fact, he would've been shocked to have opened any letter from Konoha and see nothing relating to war; after all, it was a way of life.

"I'm fine, Potter, Weasley," he said, and his voice sounded unfamiliar to his ears. He got up off his bed and went to the door.

Even so for the first time, he had felt hope. Despite the wrenching pain of his beloved mentor's death, he had felt hope that for once in his life, Konoha would see peace. It had looked so good, this world without war, like a shining utopia devoid of pain and loss. Of course, the Hokage's letter had been optimistic, but he took it for what it was. They were doomed to another long, hard conflict. Perhaps this one would never end.

Eventually, his feet led him to his memorial in the woods. He wondered how many names he would be adding to that slab of dark stone in the days to come.

* * *

A/N Oh dear, Kakashi seems to be overreacting to this a bit, doesn't he? Hehe. There's something about that kid that makes it _really _fun to mess up his mind. Well, anyway, in case you were wondering, this new conflict-thingy that's about to start is non-canon. The _Naruto _storyline holds that after the Kyuubi attack, Konoha fell into a peace time that lasts up until Naruto is twelve, however, I find that highly unlikely. I don't know much about ninja politics, but I know enough about basic strategy to safely say that a major power, after suffering an attack like Kyuubi and losing like, a third of their population and most of their military, would be almost certain to undergo some sort of attack by another country (or village) that wants their lofty political position. Thus, you see that Mashashi Kishimoto's storyline is illogical, and he needs to watch some History Channel, if they have that in Japan. (I know--I'm a nerd. But nerd is just another word for educated.)

And finally, to answer some burning questions before they even come up, I figured now would be a good time to announce that there will be NO pairings in this story. I'm sure at least one of you saw the potential for some KakashiHermione there, but it is NOT going to happen. Ever. At least not here. Personally I think that inter-series pairings, nine times out of ten, will ruin an otherwise good crossover. So I refuse to walk into that disaster, thank you very much. Thanks for reading! ;) A/N


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Beauxbatons and Durmstrang**

A/N I'd like to thank my new beta-reader, DarkAmber112, for editing, plot advice, and basically being amazing.

Otherwise, I find it necessary to point out that I have tweaked the Harry Potter timeline slightly in this chapter, by altering the date the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students arrive, and also when the Goblet of Fire opens up, for plot reasons. I really don't like changing canon timelines, and don't intend to do it often, so I thought I should just bring it out into the light before I get any reviews pointing it out to me. Thanks for reading!

* * *

At some point or another, mid October rolled around, and with it came a boatload and carriage full of foreign students. Kakashi sent a bunshin to the arrival feast, he himself took advantage of the time off classes to train deep in the woods. It was raining that night, and very cold, but he didn't care. The news of the new war had filled him with new resolve, and, despite his initial depression, it had also given him a new strength: something to fight for. A reason to live. 

He returned to his dormitory early in the morning, and sent a bunshin to his classes while he slept through the day. After the school day had ended, he woke up in time to meet Professor McGonagall for his last remedial lesson. He was only ten minutes late.

"Mr. Hatake," McGonagall said, and she smiled at him. She had been much nicer to him since the day he had received the letter. Dumbledore had probably told her about the looming new war. "Do sit down."

Kakashi nodded politely and sat down, hiding his bandaged hands in his pockets; they had been badly scraped last night by some rather overzealous training techniques Gai had introduced him to back in Konoha.

McGonagall looked at him for a long moment, before sighing. "How are you, Hatake?"

Kakashi shrugged. "I'm fine, Professor, thank you."

McGonagall nodded. Kakashi knew full well she didn't believe him. "You're looking a bit pale today, Kakashi. The cold weather isn't suiting you well, hmm?"

"No, ma'am. It rarely gets so cold in Konoha." Kakashi answered.

"Mm." She acknowledged shortly, and looked briefly down at her desk, breathing a sigh. "Well, Kakashi, we have reached your last lesson. I am satisfied that you have attained the fourth-year level and that you will be fully competent in all of your classes. I am very pleased with your progress."

Kakashi bowed his head and thanked her.

"But I must express my surprise, Kakashi, that you have managed to keep up with all of your lessons and your homework, and still have found time to sneak out at night until the wee hours of the morning, while maintaining your health to…at least a _passable_ degree. Now, don't even bother to look surprised, Hatake. You were told we were watching you, and you should've known we could keep track of you, and however many duplicates you cared to produce."

"Professor, I—"

McGonagall held up a hand. "I refuse to listen to your excuses, Hatake. Professor Dumbledore wants to inform you that he will no longer tolerate your nightly escapades in the Forbidden forest, and however interesting your duplicates are, they will no longer be permitted in classes to take your place. This is a warning, Hatake. The next time you are found out of bed after hours, you will be physically retrieved by one of the teachers and monitored for the rest of the night. If a duplicate is found in your place during a class, you will again be retrieved, whether you're in your bed asleep or deep in the Forbidden Forest. Each infraction will result in a detention."

Kakashi said nothing. He felt only unsurprised disappointment.

Professor McGonagall's expression softened slightly. "We all understand your need to grieve, Kakashi, and Professor Dumbledore respects that need. But it has begun to compromise your health, and so now he has drawn the line. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. You are to report to the hospital wing, Hatake, to get those hands of yours fixed up. Then you will be sure to be present for dinner tonight, since you missed last night's feast, and breakfast as well."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And furthermore, your duplicates will be needed on guard again, tonight. And Dumbledore says tomorrow, as well. I hope that's not asking too much?"

"No," Kakashi answered. "It's fine."

McGonagall nodded. "Good. Thank you, Mr. Hatake. And, please try to take care of yourself. You haven't been looking well lately."

"Thank you for your concern, Professor, but I'm fine." He forced a smile.

McGonagall nodded. "Alright, Hatake. You're dismissed. And good luck with your classes."

Kakashi took his leave and made his way to the hospital wing, where Madame Pomfrey healed his hands. He sat silently on the examination table as the nurse lectured him mercilessly about how to take care of himself.

"And honestly, Hatake, you look as if you haven't slept for weeks! What on earth have you been doing to yourself? I really ought to have a talk with Professor Dumbledore about you, surely he knows you're ailing with something. You really should spend the night here, Mr. Hatake. Just to get a good night's rest."

"I really don't think—" Kakashi started to protest, but he was interrupted when Pomfrey pushed a thermometer under his tongue. She drew it out several seconds later.

"Hmph! You have a fever, Hatake! Just a degree above normal, but all the same!"

"I'm sure a Pepper-Up potion will fix it," Kakashi said, trying to bargain. He really didn't want to spend a night up here, under the constant motherly eye of this squat little witch and her collection of foul-tasting cures.

"Nonsense, I gave you a Pepper-Up just last week, Hatake, and you were coughing again the very next day. I saw you in the hallways, hacking away."

Kakashi shrugged. "It's just a cold, Madame Pomfrey, please. I don't need to spend the night."

The nurse raised her eyebrows as she finished with Kakashi's hands. "As you wish, Hatake, but you've been in here too many times for me to be at ease. I'll be checking up on you, boy. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Kakashi said gratefully. He could send a nice, healthy bunshin to that confrontation when the time came. "Thank you," and with that he hurried from the hospital wing before Madame Pomfrey could change her mind.

* * *

The next day passed slowly. Kakashi pointedly showed up at all his classes and attended every meal, and was even in bed in time for curfew the night before. McGonagall looked pleased when he showed up in her class. 

By the time dinner arrived, he was thoroughly bored. He did enjoy listening to the conversations of the foreign students, however, until he was dragged unwillingly into one such conversation, by a group of Durmstrang students who were mingling with the Gryffindors.

"You, you are from Japan, no?" a well-built young man asked.

"Yes," Kakashi replied.

"Why have you come all alone?"

Kakashi politely answered, "My country is experiencing a conflict with our neighboring countries. I was sent for diplomacy purposes to form alliances and to learn from this country."

"Ah," the Romanian student said.

"You plan to enter the Tournament?" another student asked.

Kakashi nodded, grudgingly. Of course, he didn't want to, but he had his orders. Of course, his orders were only to try his best. So what if his best, for whatever reason, just simply wasn't good enough? "Yes, I plan to enter." A lie, Kakashi knew. He had absolutely no intention of entering such a stupid and useless competition.

The older boy nodded, and he looked concerned. "You are very young. Very small. Do you think perhaps it is not wise?"

Kakashi shrugged. "I'm not worried."

The Durmstrang students chortled with friendly laughter, and several of them clapped him on the shoulders.

"Our Professor said that you will only be allowed to enter if you can cheat the age-line, because you are so young." Another Romanian student said. "How do you plan to do this?"

Kakashi shrugged again, and twisted his fork absently in his mashed potatoes. "I don't really know yet. I'll figure it out, I think."

The Romanians laughed again, and thankfully the conversation turned away from him and into speculations of what the tournament would entail. Kakashi finished his dinner, and made his escape.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Kakashi, Hermione Granger had been deeply offended by a comment he had made to her several weeks ago, at perhaps three in the morning. Kakashi had walked in from the rain completely soaked, and she had been studying for a large test she had that Thursday. She had scolded him about his bad habits, and had challenged him to be more morally righteous when it came to his behavior. 

"_I thought you were a smart one," _he had said, _"But it looks like you haven't done your homework." _Hadn't done her homework—! Hermione Granger always did her homework, and had always made the utmost effort to be understanding of other cultures! So she had set about to do her homework, and that night, she sat at the dinner table and plotted how to do just that.

After spending hours buried deep in the library, she had made her way through the sparse texts that had been written about Asian wizardry. She hadn't been able to find anything of use, except that Asian wizardry was somehow different from Western wizardry in nature, and that they were far more secretive about their cultures. She had found obscure allusions to ninjas, and something called a "hidden village," and "shinobi." So she had begun researching these "shinobi," and had found remarkably little on the subject. Hogwart's library was enormous, filled with hundreds of thousands of books, and she simply refused to believe that it contained absolutely nothing about these shinobi. Clearly, all the useful information was hidden away in the Forbidden Section of the library. How very disappointing. She would have to work to get permission…but from whom?

"I still don't know why you're going on about him," Harry's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Harry!" Rob responded shrilly. "He's Victor Krum! How could anyone _not _go on about him? He's the most incredible Seeker the game's ever seen!"

Hermione sighed. "Could you two please be quiet?" she said. "I'm trying to think,"

"About how to get your name in the Goblet of Fire?" Ron said excitedly. "Me and Harry want to get it, too, don't we, Harry?"

"Er, yeah," Harry said with a weak smile. Honestly, he really didn't like the idea at all.

"I'm thinking an aging potion," Ron ventured, "Fred and George have loads of them. But I'm sure Professor Dumbledore's thought of that already."

"Mm," Harry responded passively.

"So, do you have any ideas, Hermione?"

"I'm trying to think of how to get to the Forbidden Section of the library," She replied briskly.

"Not that again," Ron said, "You were going on about that last year, remember? 'All that wasted knowledge!' you said. Again and again."

"I want to find out about Japanese wizardry."

"Why on earth would you want to do that?" Harry asked. "Their exchange student isn't making a very good impression so far."

Hermione winced. "Please don't be so harsh on him, Harry. You know where I stand on the subject."

The boy frowned in distaste. "He's burning things in our dormitory now, did we tell you that? A couple weeks ago. He's a maniac."

"It just doesn't fit together," Hermione said, ignoring Harry's comment. "Why would any country send only one student to represent them, especially such an introverted student as Kakashi? I don't think that's really why he's here. And have you noticed how he never seems to be around, and when you think you know exactly where he is, he pops up somewhere else? It's strange."

"He has no respect for the rules, Hermione. What can you expect?"

"I've read about Japanese ninja arts," Hermione said. "But I haven't been able to find anything at all about what that really entails. That's what I'm hoping to find in the Forbidden Section."

"I think you should just leave the poor bloke alone," Ron said. "If he's hiding something from us, there's probably a reason for it and we shouldn't pry."

"Says you," Hermione snapped, "You're the one who's been pestering him for the past month about how he plans to cheat the age-line."

"Can't we talk about something else?" Harry interrupted. "In case you haven't noticed, he and I don't really get along very well."

Hermione sighed. "You and he really need to make up, Harry."

"Why should I? He insulted my parents."

"He didn't insult them," Ron pointed out, "He just said their deaths were insignificant and that you had no reason to grieve the circumstances," He winced a bit after he said the words, and quickly stuffed a bread roll in his mouth.

"It was just is just as bad." Harry pointed out.

"I'm not agreeing with him," Hermione sighed. "I don't think he actively dislikes you, Harry, but from what I know from psychology, he felt insulted by the display Professor Moody put on. He's obviously seen terrible things, and felt insulted by the insinuation that the Third Curse is the worst death anyone can experience."

"You're looking too much into it," Ron said. "Maybe he just doesn't like Mad-Eye or something."

"He felt insulted," Hermione repeated. "He really just came out and told us, when he started citing all the things Harry hadn't seen. You remember? Many of those were terrible things. He said it himself, that he would see the curse as more of a blessing."

"Then he obviously comes from a pretty screwed up place," Harry grumbled, as he stabbed sulkily at his beans. "If their society accepts death as such as daily part of life that they see a death-curse as a blessing."

"Harry, he's bringing out the worst in you. Every time he comes up in a conversation or walks in a room you get all resentful. It's not couth at all, and I think you need to snap out of it. You're repugnant when you're brooding." Hermione scolded sternly.

"Thanks, Hermione, that's good to know." Harry scowled at her, but his expression shifted in a way that suggested that he was trying to be less repugnant.

"Anyway," Hermione continued brightly, "I think that if someone actually took the time to sit down and talk with him, they'd find him to be a quite intelligent and interesting person, albeit a bit shy."

"Why don't you do it, then?" Harry demanded.

"You know, Fred and George said they found him hanging from the ceiling on his first week, trying to get into the kitchen." Ron interrupted. "Like, he was just standing there, on the ceiling. They asked him how to do it, but he wouldn't tell them."

"That's exactly what I've been wanting to find out about these people," Hermione said, throwing a hand in the air. "What they can do, what their country's magic has yielded. I really want to find out more about these 'shinobi,' because it's so obvious that they know so much that we don't." She glanced over at the formidable-looking foreign guards stationed at the exits of the great hall. She couldn't really tell with the mask, but it looked as though one of them was looking at her. She shivered.

"I wonder what they do when they aren't guarding," Harry said contemplatively. "I mean, they're only on guard when something important's happening, and then they just…"

"Disappear," Hermione finished quietly.

"Yeah." Harry said. And he took a bite of butternut squash.

"They probably hang out in Hogsmeade or something," Ron said. "I've certainly never seen them around the castle."

Hermione shrugged. "Speaking of Hogsmeade, the second trip is coming up! Are you excited, Harry?"

Harry nodded happily.

"Thank god for Sirius Black, eh?" Ron whispered, and raised his glass to the aforementioned fugitive.

Harry and Hermione raised their glasses as well, and the thought of the mysterious foreign wizards eventually disappeared from their minds.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Ill-Kept Silence**

A/N There is WAY too much angst in this chapter. It's also rather explicit in terms of violence. But hey, it's not as bad as it could've been. Oh, and for you more sensitive folk, there's swearing in this chapter. Just thought I'd let you know.

Also, there will be more Harry-bashing and hissy-fits all around.

And now I must thank Arashinobara Jikkankakyoku for beta-ing for me and for helping me work out the kinks of this chapter and the plot in general, and spending many hours debating with me about why the _tiniest _little detail is or is not in character. She's been an enormous help. No sentence escaped scrutiny. Hopefully it shows, and I do apologize for my lateness in posting this. But anyway it's about 1/3 longer then the norm, so that should make up for it. A/N

* * *

Kakashi was inside the castle in time for curfew that night. Soaked to the bone and shivering with cold, he walked casually through the emptying hallways, too fatigued to bother with employing his usual stealth. Students, teachers and the occasional ghost stared at him as he passed.

"Hatake!" Snape snapped as they crossed each other's paths . "You're dripping. Tell me, boy, why are you dripping?"

Kakashi concealed a sigh. "I was outside, Professor. It's raining outside."

"Mm." Snape grunted, and his lip curled. "Five points from Gryffindor, Hatake, for making a mess. Unfortunately, you will be spared the task of cleaning it up, because the Headmaster is looking for you. Come with me."

Without a word, Kakashi turned on his heel and followed the Potions Master back the way he had come. He already knew what this meeting would be about: something had happened in Konoha.

He trailed mindlessly behind Snape as his stomach twisted into knots. He barely heard as the Professor spoke the password to Dumbledore's office and the two of them walked inside.

"I have delivered the boy, Albus," Snape said stiffly. "Beware of impending carpet stains; he's been outside."

Dumbledore smiled. "That's quite alright, Severus, thank you. You may go, now."

Snape nodded and took his leave, with his lip curling contemptuously.

Dumbledore smiled at Kakashi, and waved towards the squishy armchair before his desk. "Sit down, Kakashi." The shinobi obeyed. Dumbledore sighed and tented his fingers, before looking the boy in the eye. "Now, Mr. Hatake, it is nearly time for bed and I don't want to get you in trouble for being out after curfew, so I'll be brief. I've received a letter from Konoha, and the news is not good." He paused.

"Yes?" Kakashi prompted.

"I'm afraid the Villages of Rock, Mist, and Rain have declared war on Konoha once again. They are acting as a clearly coordinated group, and this seems to be a planned attack."

Kakashi nodded, even as his heart dropped like a rock into his stomach. "I understand."

Dumbledore drew a scroll out of his desk and passed it to Kakashi. He looked sad. "Sandaime's letter contains the details. I've already decoded it, so take it to your dormitory and read it there, alright?"

"Yes, sir," Kakashi took the scroll and left.

He didn't even realize he was standing before the Fat Lady's portrait until she spoke to him.

"Why do you look so glum, dearie? Honestly, you look like a drowned puppy."

"Dragon toenails," Kakashi said, and he was so lost he didn't even hear her.

"Alright, alright, dear." The portrait swung open, and Kakashi went inside. The Common Room was too crowded, so he headed up to his dormitory, and found Harry, Ron, and Neville inside, absorbed in a game of wizard's chess.

"Excuse me," Kakashi said vaguely. He sat down on his bed and pulled the curtains around him. He opened the scroll and found it written in English.

_Dear Albus,_

_Three days ago, the Villages of Rock, Mist, and Rain declared war on us after mounting a massive attack on our northern border. They are acting as allies, and their attacks are coordinated and well-planned. It is unclear as to which Village is the leader of the alliance, but it seems likely that Rock is the main force orchestrating the war. The other Villages involved in the Post-Kyuubi Treaty have pleaded neutrality, with the exception of our small neighboring Village of Craftsmen , who have promised provisions and soldiers. However, most of the other powers—Sand, Cloud, Grass, and Waterfall—have all refused to be involved, although it is possible that they are considering alliances with our enemies. _

_This is an intensely unpleasant situation, and very dangerous. United, those Villages make a very strong enemy, and Konoha is still recovering from Kyuubi. Our relations with Cloud village are good—it may yet be possible to secure their aid, and Sand Village is obligated by the Treaty to maintain good trade routes with us. Of course, if they broke that pact, we would be unable to exact justice. As you can see, we are in a bit of a sticky situation. However, our outer defenses are good, and we will be protected by the coming monsoon season. So far, we have suffered minimal losses, and the attack mounted on our northern border failed due to a tactical advantage involving Jiraiya-kun's giant toad, and we only lost six shinobi. Of course, six is still far too many for anyone's liking._

_The war has returned, Albus, and it is unclear as to what is going to happen. Furthermore, my shinobi have been unable to locate the traitor Orochimaru, but it is known that he has amassed a small, yet powerful group of renegades and deserters, banded together from various villages. We still do not know what role Orochimaru plays in this war, and the best we can hope for is that he will not bother himself to participate in it. There are no indications that he has located Hatake Kakashi. However there are no guarantees that he has not, either, so you must be careful. I would hate to endanger you or your school on Konoha's account, Albus, and if you believe either may be at risk, I insist that you abort Kakashi's mission and send him home. But until that point, he is in far less danger at Hogwarts, and it is my wish that he remain there. This newest conflict has not yet escalated to the point at which Kakashi's services are necessary. I hope that point will never come, but sadly, that is not the way of war._

_Please pass this letter on to Kakashi. He should know everything._

_-Sincerely, _

_The Sandaime Hokage, of Konohagakure no Sato_

Kakashi closed the letter and placed it on his bed. He felt nothing. Just numb. Perhaps some badly cynical part of his mind laughed and said, _I told you so._ His mind began listing all the things that would come back, now that the peace was gone. Daily missions, most of them ranked B or higher, many of them assassinations or mass exterminations. Weekly hospital visits, sometimes for him, usually for a friend or comrade. Food shortage. Power shortage. No hot water to take a shower in after a hard mission, and so many deaths…. It wasn't fair.

He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until it escaped him all at once, in a loud and conspicuous gasp. Ashamed, he took a deep breath and waited for the tears to disappear, but a wrenching pain remained inside his gut as he wondered which names he would be adding to his makeshift memorial in the woods. And there was nothing— absolutely nothing—he would be able to do to help them. Because he was here, halfway around the world, hiding from everything.

Outside the protective layer of curtains, Ron, Harry, and Neville sat in shock. They had all heard Kakashi's distress.

"Hatake?" Ron called tentatively. "Are you alright in there?"

At first, there was no reply. Then the curtains opened and Kakashi sat dry-eyed on the edge of the bed. He fingered the edge of his mask. "I'm okay," he said, but he could not bring himself to smile, and his voice was precariously near cracking.

"What happened?" Neville asked; he had noticed the letter when Kakashi came in.

"Oh. You know." Kakashi shrugged. "Nothing."

"Didn't sound like nothing," Ron muttered. "Seriously though, what's up?"

Kakashi felt his anger tick, ever so slightly. "I told you. Absolutely nothing."

Ron rolled his eyes at this, and exchanged glances with Harry. A silence festered for a moment, and Kakashi could see how Ron began to twitch in indignation at how his concern had been so rudely dismissed. A scowl bloomed across the red-haired boy's face as Harry's Bishop claimed his Knight. He gazed distractedly at the board and picked up the tiny arm that had once been attached to his fallen piece.

"You know," he said finally, his hand tightening around the remains of the chess piece, "You don't have to be so bloody uptight. I swear, someone must've shoved a stick up your ass or something." Kakashi's expression darkened behind his mask. Obito had used that line on him before. Many times, in fact. A feeling of indignation flitted suddenly across Kakashi's mind—this boy didn't have the right to say that to him. Only Obito was allowed to say it, and Obito was dead. Something had been violated by Ron's utterance, and it made Kakashi's heart wrench painfully.

"Don't ever say that to me again, Weasley." And that was all the retort he could make.

Ron snorted. "Really, what d'you plan to do to me if I do?"

"I'll break your fucking neck." He said quietly. Though the words came out as barely louder than a whisper, a chill seemed to settle over the room. And for a moment, it felt to Ron that a more truthful statement had never been voiced.

It was Harry who broke the silence. "Don't talk to my friends like that, Hatake," and his voice was just as low and dangerous.

Kakashi eyed the other boy for a moment, contempt growing in his gut. "Then tell your friends not to talk to me like _that_."

"But I agree with him," Harry found that his fingers were lingering over the pocket with his wand in it.

"That doesn't change anything."

The tension grew for a few moments, with the three boys facing off against each other. And then suddenly Neville spoke, for the first time since Kakashi's arrival.

"Stop fighting! Y-you're Gryffindors, you know—all of you! This isn't how you're supposed to act!"

Harry turned towards the other boy, as if just noticing that he was there. "_He's_ no Gryffindor," he spat, jerking his head in Kakashi's direction. "Gryffindors take care of each other. They take care of their _friends_."

Kakashi turned his hard, one-eyed gaze upon Harry. His anger snapped, then and there. He struggled to find an accurate retort, but the emotions that welled inside him quelled the words before they formed on his tongue.

So he said the easiest thing to say, and the one thought that he had tried to validate himself with for years. "Friends. A funny business, aren't they? Perhaps you don't understand, Potter, so I'll explain it to you. Friendships are nothing but a liability and a weakness. You let yourself get caught up in them, and then you turn around and they blow up in your face. You write your entire definition around them, so as soon as they go away there's nothing left of you, and you'll have to wonder who you are all over again. Does that make sense to you?"

Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't patronize me, Hatake." Harry growled, and his hands clenched into fists. "My parents were betrayed and murdered by one of their friends. Don't you _dare_ talk to me like I don't know anything."

"But you don't." Kakashi replied. His fist was clenched around the scroll, crumpling the thin paper.

Harry ground his teeth, his anger rising. His fingers closed around his wand.

"Harry!" Ron shouted. "Calm down! You can't let him get to you!"

"You know, all you can talk about are your parents," Kakashi said speculatively, watching coldly as Harry struggled to keep his temper. "It's like you can't imagine anyone having bigger problems. Your parents died when you were a baby. You know Potter, you need to grow up. I think you just like feeling sorry for yourself."

Harry's eyes widened, and he threw himself at Kakashi. Ron and Neville caught him before the two could clash. But Kakashi wasn't done. "Let him go, you two. Let him do what he wants."

"You honestly think I just like feeling sorry for myself?" Harry shouted furiously. "Eleven years living under the roof of three monsters, enduring abuse and neglect, and you think I like the _attention_? I slept in a goddamned closet, Hatake! They used to feed me my cousin's leftovers! They wouldn't let me out for _days_ on end, and _you _think it's all in my head?!"

For a few seconds, Kakashi didn't speak. He simply let the tension build, until he could see Potter twitching in rage.

"I'm not interested in deciding which one of us had a worse life," Kakashi said finally. "I just want you to stop bitching about yours."

Harry's eyes flared furiously, and he spat, "Tell me about yours then, _Kakashi,_ What makes you so knowledgeable about pain?"

"What makes you think you have the right to know?" he sneered.

"An eye for an eye." Harry replied. "You can't judge people and not open yourself to their judgement."

Kakashi forced his visible eye to cease its glare and curl into some semblance of a smile, just so he could be infuriating. He wanted to watch Harry squirm with rage; he wanted to feel some satisfaction from his own control. "That's _exactly_ what I'm doing."

Harry's face warped contemptuously. "Then I win by default,"

"Since when was it a contest?" Kakashi wondered airily.

Harry's reply came quick and cold. "Since you told me I have no right to grieve my parents."

Kakashi shrugged. "If it's a contest you're looking for, I'll blow you out of the water. Is that really what you want?"

"Yes." Harry answered coldly.

The smiled returned to Kakashi's face. He gazed at Harry for a moment, and realized that he wanted to end this confrontation before it escalated. Such things had a habit of throwing Kakashi into situations he didn't want. He briefly entertained the notion of bashing the other boy's head in, but thought better of it.

"Well," he shrugged, "Since you asked." He stood for awhile, searching for words. He would make up some sad little story about crippling poverty and his parents leaving him out in the woods in the hope that some kind stranger would take him in. It would be something stupid but heartwarming. Cliché but painless."M-my mother―" he started, and was shocked to hear his voice shaking. And suddenly, completely without warning, his mind launched down a different path than the one he had planned for it. And this one was far more painful, and very much more real. _My mother died in childbirth. She died giving birth to me. _He urged the unpleasant thoughts to leave him, but his mind was paralyzed even as it rushed forward without him. _My father never forgave me. He hated me for it, and that's why he_―_that's why…_

Suddenly, he became very aware of the way his heart was beating in his chest; the way it seemed to go far too fast for him. He clutched at his shirt and tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. _Calm down. _He thought sensibly, grateful that some part of him was still aware of the other occupants of the room. The way they were looking at him

_Just tell them something. It doesn't matter what. Just tell them something so they'll go away._ "My father was―h-he fought―" he choked, but was unable to say anything else. The lump in his chest was suffocating him. "B-b-but he didn't―" Suddenly an image flashed before his eyes. He saw his father's face twisted in a hideous parody of a smile. His father's death face. His breath stopped in his throat. His defenses were dropping. He knew what was coming—the flood of images, uncontrollable, unstoppable, about to wreak havoc upon him once again.

_I found him on the floor of our study, a sword stuck in his gut and his entrails spread out all over the place. _And there it was, the Hatake study, and there was his father with his body turned inside-out, a look of agony upon the face that Kakashi had once loved.He remembered the way the White Fang's chest had heaved, and how his intestines had quivered with each breath._ He was still breathing. He looked at me, and he asked me—you know what he asked me?—he asked me to cut his head off, to end the pain._

_I tried to do it. I really did; I couldn't bear to fail him this time: the last request he'd ever make to his only child. _And again the image flared to life before Kakashi's eyes, like the strike of flint against steel in a dark place. Little Kakashi, seven years old, stood over his dying, gasping father, and in hands still pudgy with baby fat, he clutched a sword that was almost as big as he was.

His hands contracted into fists as he remembered, in horrifying detail, just how it had felt to drive the sword into his father's bared neck. _I got about two inches deep before I passed out. I woke up next to his cooling body, and I was wet because I was lying in something. I didn't know what it was until I realized that it was my vomit, mixed with his blood._

Somewhere far away, Harry, Ron, and Neville watched in concern. Hatake seemed to be choking, his hands clawing at each other as he repeated a word unfamiliar to them: "Kaishakunin." Ron reached out to shake him from his distress, but Neville nudged him, shaking his head.

"Kakashi," Neville said softly. He did not touch the other boy, instead backing away as though fearful of being burned. "Can you hear me?"

The shinobi flinched as his roommate spoke, and for a second the flow of images stopped and he could see three familiar faces looking at him. They looked so worried for him―he didn't want them to be worried. He never liked people to be worried for him.

But then the images began to slow, and the room came back into blurry existence before the shinobi's eyes, and as the last few images sparked in front of his eyes, each one felt like an explosion in his head, and he clutched at it. He didn't realize he was pulling out his own hair, he was clenching so hard.

And then, after a few seconds, Kakashi felt nothing. Everything stopped. All was numb, and that was exactly how he liked it. He was vaguely aware of the show he had just put on for the other occupants of the room, but he could not bring himself to care. He felt so distant from everything; it was like watching a dream. Maybe it _was _a dream. He didn't know, and it didn't matter to him either way. He could only think one thought and that was, _Thank god it stopped there. Thank god it didn't get to Obito._

Kakashi blinked away the white haze that had formed before his eyes. He didn't like that haze, but it was there sometimes, creeping up when he didn't expect it, a swarm of tiny particles all blinking on and off and rushing around in a frenzied miasma—so distracting. Sometimes they made it hard for him to see, and often they made him forget what was going on…

Neville was talking. He was holding up his hands, and had positioned himself between Harry and Kakashi. His eyes were focused, but his hands were shaking. Kakashi couldn't hear what the other boy was saying, nor did he want to. He felt choked—smothered. He couldn't breathe, and the white mist had formed around the edges of his sight, restricting his vision. Suddenly, he knew what he wanted to do…he wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere but here.

His bare heels bumped awkwardly on the floor as he went to the door, and he could hear the dull thumps of his footsteps, but he could not feel them. He could see nothing but a narrow tunnel that swung back and forth with his quickening strides as he went down the stairs, his hand gliding along the rail without sensation.

When the haze finally began to fade, he found his feet wet and cool, and they were splashing through the mud towards the woods. Finally sensation returned to him in the safety of the rain, where no one could find him and drag painful memories back up from the depths of his mind. When he got to his memorial, bitter tears spilled from his eyes to mix from the rain, and he repeated the mantra of Shinobi Rule 25. But deeper in his mind, another mantra echoed. The voice of his sensei, over and over: _You're not breaking the rules if no one sees you. Everybody's human._

Everybody's human.

Kakashi didn't feel very human at all. He felt dead. A sin against nature; he had been killed, murdered, torn apart and sewn together again too many times. He sunk down in the mud and let the hard rain turn his skin numb, like the tiny fists of all the people he had hurt. He hoped they killed him.

* * *

Kakashi left a stunned silence in his wake. The three boys stared at the door as it swung lazily shut behind the exchange student. It was Harry who first regained his voice, and it was shaking. "S-see? He had nothing to say."

Neville's mouth opened in shock. "Harry, how can you think that? Can't you see he's upset? You shouldn't have provoked him!"

Suddenly Harry felt his anger return, because he would rather feel angry than guilty. "He provoked me!"

"Harry…" Ron protested briefly. "That's enough, I was the one who made him angry in the first place…"

"Don't be stupid." Harry said. "He was looking for a fight. He's _always_ looking for one."

"Harry," Neville spoke up uncertainly, "Shouldn't we…"

"What?" Harry snapped.

"I think he's trying to leave, Harry, we should stop him. He'll get Gryffindor in trouble,"

Harry shook his head. "Let him leave. And I hope he gets expelled for it." He looked down at the chessboard at his feet, and suddenly realized that he was very tired. "You win, Ron. I'm going to bed."

* * *

Harry woke up the next morning at sunrise. It was much earlier than he was accustomed to awakening but he had no desire to crawl back in bed and sleep for a few more hours. So he padded quietly to the trunk at the foot of his bed and slipped into his robes, being careful not to wake his slumbering roommates. Once dressed, he sat at the foot of his bed for awhile, allowing himself a wide yawn, while wondering what it was he was forgetting.

The nagging feeling had bothered him since the moment he opened his eyes, but he could not, for the life of him, remember what it was he was trying to remember. He shrugged and started towards the door, intending to see if they had started serving breakfast yet at the great hall. But on the way to put on his shoes, he stepped on something hard and pointy. With a muffled cry of pain, he picked the thing up and turned it over in his fingers, and realized what it was. It was a piece of some unfortunate pawn that had once been part of Ron's wizard chess set.

And that was when it came back to him. The argument, Kakashi's fit, and his flight down the stairs. Harry looked towards Kakashi's bed, a feeling of anxiety growing in his stomach. The curtains were wide open, exposing the undisturbed bed within. It looked stark and empty in the half-light, like the shell of some dead and devoured insect.

Anxiously, Harry searched for some sign that Kakashi had returned since the incident. His fingers grazed the pillow, hoping to find it warm and recently abandoned, but it was as cold as if it had never been slept upon. A jolt of hopefulness filled up his stomach as he realized that Kakashi could've spent the night in the Common Room, simply to be away from them. He stepped outside and did a brief survey of the Common Room below, but every chair was empty.

Defeated, Harry returned to the dorm. And that was when he saw the parchment standing out against the dark wood floor beside Kakashi's bed. He reached down and picked it up, delicately, and wondered briefly if it was addressed to him. Perhaps Kakashi had written some letter of apology or explanation. He waved the thought away as impossible, but not before his eyes landed curiously on the opening sentence.

It was addressed to Dumbledore, Harry realized with a pang, and for a moment he reveled in the thought that Kakashi had stolen it from the Headmaster and that he, Harry, would receive credit for returning it to him.

But as his eyes traveled down the page, words began to jump out at him, and his excitement turned to confusion. There were mentions of war, and death. And one sentence in particular disturbed him: Kakashi's presence in the school put all of Hogwarts in danger. He could not prevent his eyes from drifting back up to the top to read more carefully, though his fingers trembled ever so slightly with the knowledge that he was reading another's mail. It seemed wrong somehow, and made him feel sick to his stomach as he wondered what Kakashi would do if he read one of Sirius's precious letters. The consequences would doubtless be disastrous.

He reached the bottom of the letter somewhat guiltily, and set it down beside him as the contents sunk in. Hatake was hiding. He had been sent away from his own country to escape from someone--this Orochimaru. He was in the process of pondering what exactly all this meant when a sleepy voice startled him from his meditations.

"Oi," Ron said, "Harry. What the bloody hell are you doing up at this hour?"

Harry jumped and flicked the corner of his blanket up over the letter, hiding it from Ron's eyes. Somehow it shamed him to be caught in the act, as though he had been seen doing something criminal. "Nothing," he said quickly. "I-I mean, I was just looking at the sunrise."

Ron snorted. "The sunrise!" he laughed a bit, stretched, and perched himself on the edge of his bed. "Well, I suppose could use a bit of study time before McGonagall's exam. You want to head down to breakfast?" he punctuated the last word with an expansive yawn.

"Lets," Harry agreed hastily.

"Mm," Ron said, and started towards his trunk.

"Oi!" Dean called from the other side of the room. "Keep it down, will you mates? Some of us are trying to sleep."

"Sorry, Dean!" Ron whispered earnestly.

"I'm going down to the Common Room," said Harry. "I'll meet you there,"

"Right, and bring your Transfiguration homework, will you? I need to finish mine."

"Yeah, yeah of course," said Harry hastily, and he snatched up the letter again, shielding it from view with his leg. He dropped it surreptitiously on Kakashi's bed on his way out. He was halfway out the door when Ron called him back. He turned guiltily, positive that he had been caught.

"Your homework, Harry?" Ron prompted. "You forgot it,"

"Oh, right." Harry chuckled. "Mornings,"

Ron looked at his friend sidelong, before shrugging and turning back to his trunk. "Well, try not to get lost on the way down the stairs."

"I'll try," Harry grinned. He dug his homework from his trunk and was out the door, without so much as glancing at the letter he had left on Kakashi's bed.

* * *

A/N Hmm. I think I went a bit overboard on the angst this chapter, but hey…I warned you.

Now here are some definitions (okay, _one_ definition) for those of you who are interested:

_Kaishakunin_: a person who is appointed to behead someone who has committed seppuku (ritual suicide) at the moment of agony. Though it should be noted that a kaishakunin is usually an honor reserved for people dying in honor, which Hatake Sakumo decidedly didn't. But that doesn't mean Kakashi couldn't try to preform the Kaishakunin's duty in the heat of the moment.

Oh, one last thing: with the approach of the new school year (joy) you can expect my updates to come much more sporadically, and not nearly as often. But I'm not abandoning the story; some degree of patience is all I ask.


	11. Chapter 11

**Ch. 11: ANBU Coping Methods**

A/N: I'm back! Yes, I know it was a long wait. Sorry…school's been a pain in the arse. I was stupid and took too many AP courses, and now I'm paying for it. I'm also sick (again). So here's the long-awaited Chapter 11. It didn't get the same editing treatment as chapter 10, so I don't think it's as good as it could be. But it's something! Right? Right?!?

Well, as much as I hate to keep my readers waiting, you can probably expect a similar delay before chapter 12 appears. Sorry…

This chapter contains swearing early on, for those of you who don't like that sort of thing.

Oh, and about reviews…I haven't replied to any of them since last chapter (too busy trying to write this chapter), but I have read all of them and I love them to death. So if I find the time I might go back and reply to some reviews (the ones that ask specific questions and bring up points), but if I don't it's because I simply didn't have a chance. Thanks! AN

* * *

Kakashi stumbled helplessly over a fallen branch, his eyes choked by tears. He could not breathe, he could not see, he could not feel. There were no thoughts in his head, only pain and some hideous, unnamed fear as images of the horrors he had seen flickered before his eyes. He saw his father, and sensei, and Obito, and hundreds of faces whose eyes he had watched as the life left them. Once he saw a face that he swore belonged to him, only it was younger, and very pale, and swollen with cuts and bruises. Those pale eyes were dead. 

Fear choked his throat, and his empty sobs rose to challenge the silence of the forest. He knew what this was. He knew this feeling. "Once you join ANBU," Tenchi, his first ANBU captain, had said once, "You can be sure you're gonna see some fucked-up shit. Even worse than Jounin shit; way, way worse than that. It adds up, kid. Your head can't deal with it, you know? Someday, you're gonna break."

_You're gonna break. _This was it. He was breaking. Every ANBU did it. Some did it more often then others. It was just a way to cope…admittedly not a very good one, but what was a soldier to do?

"There's only one rule," Tenchi had told him, "Never, ever break on the battlefield, you got that? If you do that, you're dead. And no one can afford to save you."

He just wanted to sleep. He wanted to go where the world couldn't find him, and sleep until time ran out. He just wanted it all to go away, and to leave him behind.

He could see little in the darkness, amidst the tears and the dizzying white haze, but he could see a tree. He went towards it; wanting to sleep under it. But it was moving towards him very fast…it dealt him a sickening clout to the stomach, and Kakashi's consciousness waned…where was he? He crawled underneath the tree and shielded his head against another raking sweep of cruel branches, and his arms felt cold from the sudden wetness of his blood.

Blindly, he groped for something to defend himself with, but his hand slipped into a hole instead, and he lost his balance and tumbled inside. It took him a few seconds to realize that he liked this hole. The branches could not reach him here, and the world would not be able to find him…he crawled deeper; paying no heed to the sharp objects that thrust themselves into his hands and dirtied knees. Soon the dirt gave way to splintery wood boards, and it was here that Kakashi let the darkness take him away.

* * *

It was in the midst of lunch that Harry, Ron, and Neville were called to the Headmaster's office. They sat in three chairs before his desk, squirming under his bespectacled gaze. There had been no sign of Kakashi Hatake that day. 

After a few seconds, the old man sighed and removed his glasses, polishing them on a handkerchief magically conjured with a wave of his wand. Then he put them back on and took a breath.

"Now, firstly I want to assure you three that you are not in trouble."

The knots in the boys' stomachs loosened slightly.

"But there is a very serious matter I must discuss with you."

They waited.

Dumbledore looked deeply troubled, and again he removed his spectacles, examining them closely. Finally he replaced them over his eyes and spoke. "Kakashi Hatake is gone, boys," Dumbledore said, "And by the looks on your faces I think it would not be entirely farfetched to say that this does not surprise you."

"Professor, I—" Harry started, but found that he had nothing to say.

"You must tell me when and where you saw him last." The Headmaster said bluntly. "Kakashi's life may depend on it."

Neville visibly paled. "I tried to stop him, Professor! But…but he wanted to leave and, well, I didn't know how to stop him."

Dumbledore's gaze shifted sharply to Neville. "You'd better tell me everything, Mr. Longbottom."

And so he did. In a quivering voice Neville recounted the story, from start to finish, of Kakashi's dramatic appearance in their dormitory. Harry listened guiltily as the specifics were discussed in detail, and cringed when Dumbledore asked what exactly had been said before Kakashi's fit.

Neville opened his mouth to answer, but Harry cut him off. "It was stupid, Professor. I was stupid to say it. I'm sorry."

The aged headmaster waved his hand dismissively as his gaze shifted back and forth between the three of them. "You do owe someone an apology, Harry, but it's not to me."

"We were arguing about the past," Harry said reluctantly, and he had to force himself to look Dumbledore in the eyes, "And friends―about what they mean."

Dumbledore's smile was somber and knowing as he said, "Mm. Of course. Both quite fickle subjects, wouldn't you say, Ronald?"

"Wha—? Eh, yeah," Ron said, blinking with bemusement.

"So you were talking about these things," Dumbledore stroked his chin, "or rather, you were arguing about them. And then Kakashi became…upset?"

Harry lowered his eyes, as did Neville.

"It was scary," Neville said after a pause. "Reminded me of what my…" he trailed off suddenly, his eyes suddenly becoming glassy. "Well, it looked like he had sort of lost his head for a second."

Dumbledore just nodded. "And then he left?"

Neville bobbed his head, hands twisting idly in his lap. "I tried to stop him, but I didn't know how."

"It's good that you tried," Dumbledore sighed sagely, slipping a hand briefly under his glasses to press at the bridge of his nose, where he no doubt nursed a nagging headache. "Alright, you may leave now, Ron, Neville." The three got up to leave. "But Harry, I want you to stay here for a few minutes longer."

"Professor?"

The Headmaster smiled at Ron, as his freckled visage poked around the closing door to see if he was still needed, before the door shut with a heavy clunk.

"I know you read Hatake's letter this morning," Dumbledore said bluntly, as soon as he was confident that his doorway was free of red-haired eavesdroppers. "Of course you know that's against the rules, so we have ways of knowing when someone reads a letter not meant for their eyes."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry said, desperate for assurance that he still held the old man's approval.

Dumbledore held up a hand. "You will not be punished. It was an accident, I understand. However, it is of utmost importance that you do not tell anyone of what you read in that letter, is that clear?"

"Yes sir," Harry answered quickly.

"A slip of your mouth, even to your closest friends, could result in Hatake's death. Do you understand that, Harry?"

The raven-haired boy nodded.

"Good. Now, as you have probably gathered from the letter, Hatake is not here on any sort of diplomacy mission. In fact he is a refugee, and he is in hiding from a very powerful wizard who is searching for him. The location of this wizard is unknown, but if he ever hears so much as a whispered rumor of Hatake's whereabouts, he will be upon this school in a heartbeat. And I can assure you, in his search for Hatake he will bring the entirety of Hogwarts down upon our heads if he so wishes."

Harry looked down. He didn't know what to say.

For a moment, Dumbledore was silent, and when he next spoke his voice was weary and exhausted. "Kakashi has been through unpleasant things, Harry. I know you and he have been judging each other harshly. But I can tell you one thing for sure: that boy is far too stubborn to extend the hand of truce…I doubt he even knows how to. It's your responsibility, Harry, and I'll hold you to it. Be the better man, for both your sakes."

The dark-haired young man bit his lip, and could not bring himself to meet Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes. "Yes sir," he said finally. "I'll try."

The Headmaster's eyes twinkled. "That's all I've ever asked of my students, Harry. Now, go and enjoy the rest of your lunch break."

* * *

It was in the Shrieking Shack of Hogsmeade that Kakashi found himself, wedged uncomfortably in the doorway underneath the second pair of stairs. His face was wet with hot tears leaking from eyes closed against the pain of the world, and his cheeks were striped and flushed with fever. 

He was lost to the world, and the world was lost to him, and all that existed was the doorframe and the splintery wooden boards beneath him. So he cried and mumbled to himself about things he that didn't understand, as scenes of horror passed before his eyes. He sunk gradually into a tumultuous sleep, and thrashed because he thought he was dying. And his dreams began to torment him, and people he thought he recognized clawed at him with broken fingernails and teeth, and he curled up tighter and held up his arm to fend them away, but they would not dissipate into the peaceful night.

Ranks of eyes stared at Kakashi from the darkness beyond his doorway, and silently they accused without speaking words, and Kakashi writhed under their taunts and denunciations, and his dry, torn lips formed weak retorts, and he had never in his life felt so stupid and alone.

* * *

The next few days saw Hogwarts erupt in a frenzy of gossip and speculation. Suddenly everyone knew where Kakashi was or where he had been, and what was going to happen to him. The hallways burst with accusing whispers of espionage and sabotage against Hogwarts, and Kakashi's association with the Death Eaters, and the like. Harry listened to the rumors with his stomach squirming in guilt, and he and Ron would hurry past all the talk. 

On the second day of Kakashi's disappearance, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat at the breakfast table in silence. The bushy-haired girl glowered at the both of them.

Finally, Harry could stand it no longer. He set down his fork. "Hermione, What is _with_ you today?"

Hermione scowled at him. "I know you know what happened to Kakashi."

Ron sputtered, "No you don't. You don't know a bloody thing about it."

The girl sighed and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, "If you two didn't have something to do with it; Ron, you'd be speculating about his death by the giant spider in the Forbidden Forest, and Harry, you'd be talking about how he's probably conspiring with You-Know-Who. But neither of you are doing that, so clearly you have some idea what's going on."

Harry grimaced and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Hermione, we don't know what happened to Hatake. We just know _why_—we were the last ones to see him…"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Oh Harry! You were arguing with him again, weren't you?"

The black-haired boy shrugged helplessly. "Well, I didn't know he was going to run off like that! Honestly, he _completely _overacted. Like he does to everything. He doesn't think about anything he says before he says it."

"Oh nonsense," Hermione snapped, "I happen to know that he's a very cultured and intelligent individual with a strong set of ideals."

Harry scoffed "Oh, how d'you know that, then?"

Hermione tilted her head up haughtily. "If you must know, he bought a S.P.E.W. badge. _And _he agrees with me about the outrage that is Hogwart's system of elvin servitude."

Ron snorted and elbowed Harry, "He just bought it so she'd shut up," he said form the corner of his mouth.

But Hermione easily heard him anyway and huffily gathered her books. "Fine! Be that way. But I just hope you two have the decency to be ashamed if something happens to Hatake. I'll be in the library if either of you decides to grow a conscience."

"Well, if we did that, what'd we need you for, Hermione?" Ron grinned, and Harry laughed genuinely. Hermione stalked away as her friends chortled good-naturedly, but it wasn't long before their laughter died and they fell back into their sobering silence, and let their squirming guilt and anxiety still the words on their tongues.

* * *

The next time Harry and Ron saw Hermione was in Mad-Eye Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts class. It was a relatively uneventful period, as they were continuing a lesson on vampires from the previous day. Moody himself seemed rather bored with the material, but every time he saw someone drifting away, he would surreptitiously approach the offender's desk and whack it hard with a sinister-looking switch he had procured from somewhere, barking, "Constant vigilance!" 

Hermione twitched impatiently all through the class, and Harry noticed that her notes, generally impeccable and unnecessarily detailed, sported well-sized holes of missing lecture material. He saw this with alarm, because he had been counting on Hermione's notes to get him through the paper Moody had assigned. He was about to nudge her and ask her what was wrong, when the bushy-haired girl apparently could contain herself no longer and pushed her hand into the air.

Moody's magical eye swiveled to look at her, and he stopped mid-sentence. "Ms. Granger," he growled with some amusement, "Why, Merlin's beard, am I boring _you_, of all people, too?"

"No sir!" she said hastily, clearly flustered, but quickly composed herself again. "I think this is a very interesting subject, Professor, vampires and all, especially the way how—"

"Spare us the preamble, Ms. Granger," Moody rumbled.

Hermione blushed. "Oh! Yes, sir. Of course. It's just—can I ask you something a bit off-topic?"

Moody spread his arms wide, eyebrows raised. "Please! I think we could all appreciate a change of subject."

"Well," she began cautiously, "I want to know about Eastern wizards."

Moody's expression brightened considerably. "Ah you do, do you Miss Granger? Well, I was waiting for someone to ask. Five points to Gryffindor for that."

Hermione beamed, apparently relieved that her question had been received in a friendly manner.

Moody turned back towards the chalkboard and erased the depiction he had drawn on it, of the proper place to put a stake in a vampire's anatomy. In it's place, he wrote a new word on the board, _Shinobi_.

"Those," he pointed his switch towards the word on the board, "are Eastern wizards. They are called shinobi, and really are not so much wizards as they are ninjas," he ignored the derisive snort of laughter that burst spontaneously from some Slytherins at the back of the room, "They are extremely practiced in the martial arts, and their magic systems are radically different from ours. And the good ones can list a hundred ways to kill a man in the time it takes you to draw a breath. Oh yes. It's possible."

He paused for a moment, hands clasped behind his back, and began pacing leisurely around the room, his peg leg and heavy boot working together to create a harmonious, _scrape, thud. Scrape, thud._

"I'm sure some of you have deducted that our friendly little foreign exchange student, Kakashi, is not a wizard, but a shinobi. Meaning that, if you cross him, he will have your head parted from your shoulders before you can so much as _think_ about touching your wand. Which is why you must have CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" The class flinched.

Harry scowled at this revelation, but listened anyway, intrigued.

"Shinobi are secretive!" Moody continued. "They like to keep to themselves, and unless you become an Auror you can likely count Hatake as the only shinobi you will ever set eyes on. I, however, have come in contact with them before—sometimes the renegades come here after they fall from grace, and it's left to us, the Aurors, to round them up and keep them out of trouble." Moody stroked his chin speculatively. "But every few years they slip through our fingers. I know for certain that You-Know-Who had at least one under his command sometime before he fell, in fact."

A triumphant look crossed Harry's face, and he nudged Ron to force him to catch the implication.

"However, for the most part, the shinobi community prefers to keep themselves detached from the rest of the magical world. There was a time, perhaps a hundred years ago, that shinobi did not hide themselves, and were actively involved in the world's politics. If you look close enough, you can find references to them in old history books. But then around a century ago, the shinobi community began what would be the first in a series of very long and bloody wars; a series that is continuing to this day. It was when these conflicts began that the magical East stepped off the world's stage, and they have remained there ever since. Hatake is the first political visitor the West has received in perhaps half a century."

Hermione raised her hand again. "There were other visitors before?" She asked.

"Oh yes. There were three young shinobi sent about fifty years ago, by a certain faction that didn't want to lose it's ties to the West. The visit was successful, and I'm sure if you ask someone who was here at that time, they would be able to tell you all about it."

Hermione nodded impatiently, her eager mind visibly storing away this tidbit of information for later. "Sir, what exactly is 'ANBU?' You mentioned it in our first class."

"Ah yes! ANBU is an organization within shinobi military, and one of it's highest ranked. It is made up of only the finest and most talented shinobi, and they identify themselves with swirl tattoos and those masks you've all seen our new guards wearing. They're very dangerous, Miss Granger, but other than that, I can tell you very little."

"So those Japanese guards are ANBU?" Ron said. Moody nodded in response.

"Then Hatake is ANBU also?" Hermione asked. You said he had an ANBU tattoo." Again Moody nodded. "Then why isn't Hatake helping his comrades guard the castle?"

This time the Professor just shrugged. "I haven't the slightest idea, Granger. Very possibly it is because he is still of school age, but that's my only speculation."

Hermione nodded. "Professor—how is shinobi magic different from wizard magic?"

Moody looked slightly flummoxed. He shrugged his great shoulders. "My, you're certainly full of questions today, Miss Granger. Like I say, shinobi are jealous of their secrets. I personally don't know much about them, not many Westerners do. What I can say is that shinobi call their magic _jutsu_, and they can perform them without a wand."

"Professor!" Ron said suddenly, "How come, er, shinobi can do wizard spells, but wizards can't do shinobi spells?"

Moody held his hands out in a gesture of ignorance. "You tell me, Weasley; you just taught me something new."

Everyone was quiet for a moment, and Moody _scrape-thudded _back to his desk and sat down at it, folding his hands as he looked out as his class. "Any more questions?" he challenged finally.

But even Hermione had nothing more to say.

* * *

A/N: So there you are. I hope you enjoyed it. I'd just like to inform those of you who don't know that the mental "complications" Kakashi is experiencing are actually quite real and people have these sorts of problems today (in the real world), especially if they served in a war. Just to let you all know that I'm not just pulling this stuff out of nowhere. Thanks for reading! A/N 


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: A Gray Hawk in Hogsmeade**

A/N: Wow, I was earlier than I expected with this one. my muses are back, which is nice. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and followed this fic so far! I can't believe it's amassed so many reviews. Yea. I still haven't replied to any of those, by the way. I'm getting to it! It's on my list of Stuff to Do. (It's just not very far up...heh)

So, I've received some reviews telling me that my info about chakra and all that is somewhat inaccurate. Well, believe it or not, I'm not actually a Naruto expert, and most of my chakra knowledge was gleaned from various forums and the all-knowing Wikipedia. So I apologize for that, but it really helps when people point it out so I can refrain from such mistakes in future chapters. It's much appreciated! If I ever knowingly make a mistake, It's probably because I like it better that way and this story is, after all, technically an AU. So sometimes I might do that, just to let you know.

Um, I'm pretty sure that's all I have to say about this chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

It was four nights after Kakashi's disappearance that Harry Potter found himself sitting on his windowsill long after nightfall, staring at his Maurader's Map with eyes strained and puffy with fatigue. 

There were hundreds of little moving dots on the map, and every one sporting a "K" at the beginning of the label made Harry's heart jump. But after endless hours of searching with both Ron and Hermione's aid, he had not found that one particular dot labeled "Kakashi Hatake."

"Harry," Ron's voice sounded from a crack in the curtains around his four-poster. "Bloody hell, it's almost morning already. Put the map away and go to sleep, alright?"

Harry shot Ron's curtains a desperate glance. "He's got to be here somewhere, Ron—I know it…he's _got _to be."

"Clearly, he's not _in_ Hogwarts," Ron said reasonably. "You've been looking at that map every night for three days now. You're going to give yourself an ulcer, so just give it up, alright?"

Harry did not reply. His fingers twitched with the intention of doing as Ron suggested, but he could not keep his eyes from running over the map one more time.

Seeing Harry's indecision, Ron's voice took on a slightly wheedling tone. "Besides, they've got Mad-Eye searching for him. If _he _can't find him, I don't think anyone will."

Harry's head drooped as he murmured, "And then what? What if they don't find him?"

Ron shrugged. "Personally, I reckon he went back to his old country. Probably took those Japanese guard blokes with him; I haven't seen them since he left. I mean, think about it. He hated it here."

A long silence stretched between them.

"Ron," Harry said finally, "I don't think Hatake went back to Japan…"

"Oh really?" Ron yawned loudly, "Where d'you think he went, then?"

"I think…" Harry lowered his voice to a whisper, "I think he was kidnapped, Ron,"

"I can't hear you," Ron grumbled, pushing back his bed curtains to get a better position from which to talk.

"I said," Harry said a bit louder, "I think he's been kidnapped."

Ron snorted. "By who, Harry? You-Know-Who?" he chuckled.

"No." the dark-haired youth took a breath. "Ron, there's someone after him. This wizard fellow from Japan…"

"Shinobi," Ron corrected astutely. "They're called shinobi."

"Right, right. So there's this shinobi fellow looking for him. That's why he's here. This shinobi wants to have him dead, I think. I guess he snatched Hatake up when he ran off the other night…it's all my fault, Ron."

Ron sat up suddenly, and perched himself at the edge of his bed. "Wait a minute, Harry. Where are you getting all this from? How d'you know he has some lunatic after him?"

"I…He told me himself." The words tumbled hurriedly from Harry's mouth before he could synthesize them. "A few days ago."

Ron blinked. "What? That doesn't seem like the kind of thing he would do. You two were not exactly rubbing elbows, you know. And—!" Suddenly, Ron sounded very offended, "Harry, why didn't you tell me?"

"I—I thought he was lying!" Harry said quickly. "You know, just making rubbish up to get to me."

Ron looked ruffled, "Well, all the same. I mean, that's a rather important detail to forget, don't you think?"

Harry nodded. "It's my fault, Ron. I've been treating him like Malfoy treats me all this time."

"C'mon, Harry, you know he riled you just as much as you provoked him. It was mutual hatred." Ron grinned in spite of himself.

Harry nodded. "I guess. I just feel like—"

"Oi, _shut up!" _an unhappy voice called from the other side of the room. This was followed by some rather gratuitous cursing and the sound of a body shifting beneath blankets.

Ron lowered his voice to a whisper. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Harry. Can't have you in a bad mood for double-potions tomorrow, can we?" he grimaced.

A silent breath escaped Harry. "You're right. Fine then. Goodnight, Ron."

"See you in the morning,"

And with that, the darkened dormitory fell silent.

* * *

It was with great reluctance that Hatake Kakashi opened his eyes. Yet even once he was able to pry the stiff lids apart, he could see very little of his surroundings. Well, that was just fine with him. He let his eyelids drop again, and waited for darkness to fill him up. 

Blessed sleep was calling to him—he had no desire to return to the land of the living. Much to his displeasure, however, it was not long after this that other thoughts started filling his head—the floodgate had been opened. A sleepy, grumpy denizen of peaceful and nonsensical dreams came at the thoughts with bared fangs, trying to push them out of Kakashi's head. Kakashi watched the struggle concernedly, and saw his would-be savior overwhelmed by a flood of jumbled words and pictures.

It was only then that he wondered where he was, and it was suddenly very difficult to keep his eyes closed. So they popped open again, and took in his surroundings.

The world was very brown at first, with smudges of gray and black, and some moldy green somewhere up above, with a few burning spots of sunlight making shapes just inches from Kakashi's face. He watched the shapes for awhile before wondering why they were floating in midair to his left, until he felt the rough texture of splinters chafing his cheek, and his inner ear belatedly informed him of his corporeal situation. He realized that he was lying in an unceremonious sprawl twisted halfway on his belly with a foot dangling over an edge of some sort.

Slowly, and with great deliberation, Kakashi untangled himself and, now thoroughly awake, prepared himself for a proper examination of his circumstances. He was in a small and dilapidated room of some sort, with two boarded-up windows on the opposite wall, from which sunlight filtered profanely into the room. To his right was a stairwell, and it appeared as though Kakashi had dragged himself up it at some point and collapsed at the top. Off to his left was another stairwell leading to a higher part of the building, and a termite-ravaged wooden chair with a leg missing lying on its side. All around the room were strewn piles of debris, as though a struggle had taken place here some time ago.

Kakashi got to his feet and found, after an initial bout of dizziness, that he could walk fairly well despite an ache in one ankle. There were some scratches on his arms and legs, and dried blood under his fingernails, but he decided that the damage was minor. So he set out to explore his environment.

There was little to see in the house, if one has already seen one's share of smashed furniture and piles of rubble, ragged window curtains lying forgotten under their windows, and a recently blood-stained bed on the next level. And Kakashi had certainly seen all of these things. At the bottom of the lowest flight of stairs Kakashi found a dirt tunnel, and could trace his path as having passed through it some days ago. When exactly that had been remained to be seen.

It was in peering out of the boarded windows that interesting things were to be seen. There was a busy little town outside the windows on one side of the building, and Kakashi deduced it to be Hogsmeade Village, having heard some students talking about it in the corridors. On the other side of the house was a field framed by an impenetrable forest that blocked the horizon and whatever lay between the two.

Finally realizing the great thirst that had been brooding in his throat all this time, Kakashi elected to go out of one of the forest-side windows and sneak into the town under a disguise, and perhaps stop into a pub for some sustenance. So he pried the termite-eaten boards from one of the windows and forced the frame open, giving him just enough room to wriggle out on his stomach.

He slid to the ground, building chaka in his feet so he could slide along the building's exterior. Rotted wood siding crumbled as his feet passed over them, and large chunks broke off under his fingers, leaving splinters and dusty wood particles sticking to his face and neck and sprinkling down his shirt.

Prickly brown grass met his unshod feet, with patches of hard cool dirt interspersed between brief runs of weeds. He made a quick summary of his surroundings, just to make sure there was no one watching him, before henging himself into the form of a young scholarly fellow with mousy hair and glasses, wearing proper wizard's robes.

It was only once he was inside the village, perched hidden on a rooftop, that he realized just how much chakra had drained from him and how incredibly thirsty he actually was. The more he thought about it, the more it began to burn in his throat, making his tongue feel puffy like dry cotton and his head feel as though it was filled with hot lead.

Again, he wondered how long he had been absent from reality; last time it had only been two days. But the time before that—after Obito had died, and that had been his very first time—had lasted almost six days. Sensei had taken care of him that time, pouring water down his throat and keeping him safely in bed, but there had been no one to do that this time. A shinobi could survive for several days without water, but only because his chakra would automatically sustain him for some time as a way of survival. If the chakra stores ran out, however, the shinobi would die like any ordinary human.

He let his thoughts slip away from him as he spotted a tavern sign across the street, and slid stealthily out onto the street, where many cheerful wizards were going about their business.

"The Hog's Head Tavern," the sign read, and featured a charming picture of a severed boar's head dripping blood onto a cushion. Kakashi pushed the door open and stepped inside, his senses balking at the heavy stench of liquor and pipe smoke. He sat down at a barstool and was greeted by an aged bartender.

"What can I get for yeh, sir?"

"Just some water, please," Kakashi said wispily, and was surprised to hear his voice sounding so weak.

"Yeh sure?" the bartender inquired. "We've got lots more interesting things to drink, yeh know."

Kakashi nodded firmly. "Just a water, please. Make it cold. And some peanuts, if you have any."

The man shrugged and pulled a glass from beneath his counter, examined it briefly, and brought out a rather dirtied rag to wipe the grime from it. It was promptly filled with cold water and a pair of ice cubes and passed to Kakashi, along with a ceramic ashtray filled with peanuts.

"Thanks," Kakashi muttered, as he lifted the glass to his lips and took in the life-saving liquid.

The man just grunted in reply. Rag still in hand, he leaned with one elbow on the counter, watching Kakashi drink.

"Tell you what, chap," He said amusedly, "I've never seen a man down such an incredibly heavy beverage so quickly. How about another one, on the house?"

Kakashi nodded, ignoring the sarcasm. Apparently the man expected money for the first glass. Well, in that case, he didn't have to know about Kakashi's empty pockets until after he had drunk his fill.

"So, you hear about what's going on up at the school, eh?" The bartender asked.

Kakashi shook his head mutely.

"They're bringing back the Triwizard Tournament, lad."

Kakashi nodded, some water sloshing out of the corner of his glass as he did so.

"I remember back when I was in school. Submitted my name and everything."

Kakashi bobbed his head again, politely.

"Didn't get picked, of course. Not that I expected to." The man smiled, and Kakashi was surprised to see an alarming depth and gravity in the man's eyes. It gave him a bad feeling.

"So what about you, lad? You look rather ragged."

"Just tired," Kakashi replied into his glass.

"Of course you are. We're all tired, aren't we, old boy? Especially after the incident this summer at the Quidditch World Cup,"

"Wasn't there," Kakashi said brusquely, and held out his cup for more water.

The bartender shrugged. "Well, surely you've heard about it." He said, and passed the refreshed glass back to Kakashi.

"Of course I've heard."

"And I'm sure I don't have to remind you of what it all means, eh?"

"No," Kakashi said vaguely. "But it's not the end of the world, is it?"

"Could be," The bartender said nonchalantly.

"I don't believe in the end of the world." Kakashi replied quietly.

The old bartender's mouth creased into a smile. "At least not yet. How old were you, lad, when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named fell?"

"Seven," Kakashi answered without thinking.

The bartender smiled ruefully at him. "Aye. I bet you believed in the end of the world back then, didn't you? Seven's very young to die."

Kakashi looked up from his glass for the first time in their conversation. "You're never too young to die, sir, if you're not sensible enough to appreciate life."

The man laughed abruptly, a sudden and abrasive sound. "You sound like a bitter old man, lad. In fact, you remind me of my brother when he was about your age."

Kakashi scowled. He didn't like to be laughed at. "I'm not a stupid child," he growled. "Don't treat me like one."

"I never said you were stupid," the bartender said reasonably. "Wasn't thinking it, either. What I was thinking is that your bitterness will come back and bite you in the ass someday. It'll start twisting your reality and clouding your judgment. Mark my words."

"One reality is just as good as another," Kakashi countered easily.

"Unless you're reasonably content in one reality and absolutely miserable in another," There was a little smile playing around the bartender's lips, and Kakashi felt trapped by his eyes.

"Happiness breeds boredom," Kakashi said without skipping a beat.

The older man seemed to think for a bit, before saying, "Well, I think that depends on the way you look at things, doesn't it? Personally I don't think it would be especially interesting to be miserable all my life."

The shinobi scowled. He had no reply, so he took another long sip of water. The glass felt a little heavier in his hand at this point, and he knew his chakra was dangerously low. He wouldn't be able to sustain his henge for much longer.

The bartender's smile widened as his customer offered no retort. "It's alright, lad. I'm old. You're not. Now pay up. That's two sickles for the water and the peanuts."

"You've forgotten about the fatherly wisdom," Kakashi grumbled.

"Ah yes! You're quite right. Make that four sickles."

Kakashi sighed. "Sorry, old man. No money." And with that he was gone from his chair and out the door before the old man could utter a word of protest.

Kakashi altered his henge slightly as he stepped out onto the street, changing the facial structure and hair color so as to avoid trouble from indignant bartenders. But even such a small change had to be ground out forcefully―he was apparently much weaker than he had suspected. So he made his way down the street feeling marginally refreshed, but nonetheless heavy with lack of chakra. He would have to get back to the castle soon, if he hoped to have enough strength to get him into the castle without attracting unwelcome attention. He didn't know another way back to Hogwarts, so he was about to turn around and go back to the old building he had found himself in when a considerable commotion rose from some way down the street.

The great cacophony of clattering and shrieks was issuing from another, friendlier-looking pub called The Three Broomsticks, and in seconds the door burst open as the pub's inhabitants flooded out onto the street. From inside came the sounds of a woman cursing heartily and the clamor of falling dishes and furniture being overturned. Seconds later, a very ruffled gray hawk as large as any eagle exploded from the doorway, with a little trail of dislodged feathers streaming out behind it. Between each pair of inch-long talons it clutched a bottle of butterbeer. Behind the bird barreled a very harassed-looking woman wielding a broken mop, which she swung at the bird with all her might. It glanced off the creature's powerful shoulder, and the bird let out an unhappy shriek as it quickly rose over the rooftops and towards the mountains, away from Hogwarts.

As it rose into the air, a bottle of stolen Butterbeer slipped from its talons and missed by mere inches striking an onlooker in the head. "Oi!" the man shouted indignantly, and waved his fist at the gray hawk as it disappeared.

There was a shocked silence left in the creature's wake, with the exception of a steady stream of curses from the owner of the bar. "Third bloody time this month!" She raged, "Third bloody time! That damned bird! Always smashing up _my _place and stealing _my_ butterbeer! I swear, next time I see the bloody thing I'll hex it 'till its ears are up its ass!" Then she caught sight of the man whose head had nearly been the victim of falling butterbeer. "Oh no you don't, Harold! You're not getting away with my beverages! Give me that, you scoundrel…!"

A witch had sidled up beside Kakashi during the commotion, and startled him when she said, "My, my, poor Rosmerta. Third time this month!"

Kakashi turned to regard the woman as the crowd that had accumulated around the spectacle began to recede. "What was that thing?"

The witch looked at him askance. "Why, that blasted bird's been stealing butterbeers from the Three Broomsticks for nearly two years now. It used to come once every few months or so, but lately it's been turning up more and more often. And always for poor Madame Rosmerta's butterbeer; never bothered another soul."

"Why would it want butterbeer?" Kakashi wondered.

The witch chuckled. "Well, surely you've tasted the stuff, haven't you? It's the most heavenly beverage in Hogsmeade. Why, I reckon the creature's gotten itself hooked on it. I've heard it's rather potent in animals," She was clearly about to continue, but Kakashi cut her off.

"How fascinating," he said, "I'd really like to hear more sometime. But I'm rather pressed for time and need to be going,"

"Oh, of course, dear." The witch said. She waved at him as he departed, but he was already so lost in thought he barely noticed.

There had been something peculiar about that bird. Peculiar, and rather disturbing. The gray hawk had possessed something that Kakashi had not sensed for over two months now, and this discovery of it now was like a flame standing out brightly against a dark night.

The gray hawk had chakra.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: An Un-Triumphant Return

A/N: Hi. This chapter wasn't beta-read, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes I may have missed in the course of my own editing. Um...this chapter is the longest one yet. It's twice as long as some of my shorter chapters. Also, about half of it was written during my math class, as I have now discovered the joy of writing in classes. So that was fun.

I'm sad to say that it may be a considerable amount of time before I get my next chapter up. I'm entering a particularly stressful time of year school-wise, and I foresee little time to write. So sorry about that in advance. Still haven't replied to reviews. But I do like to read them and they are the driving force behind my continued posting of this story (so keep 'em comin'). Heh. So thanks for that. Enjoy!

* * *

Kakashi worried all the way back to Hogwarts. He worried about the gray hawk, and about whether or not it had seen him, and whether Kakashi should've followed it. It was so concerning not because the hawk itself had chakra, but because it had the same chakra type as a shinobi summon, the same type that Kakashi's own nin-dogs possessed. It meant there was another shinobi in Britain, and that could potentially be a very bad thing.

He was so busy worrying that he didn't even see the enormous boarhound until he was practically tripping over it. He was shocked unpleasantly out of his ruminations.

"Hey--!" Kakashi growled, "Get away." He knew he didn't have the energy for a fight or chase. The massive hound flattened its ears and whined, intimidated, but it did not back away.

"Go," Kakashi said again, raising his hand as if threatening to strike. The dog backed away a few paces, then sat leaned back on its haunches and let loose a great, reverberating howl.

Kakashi swore. He was situated on a grassy hilltop not far from the lake, halfway between the Whomping Willow (as he had deduced it to be) and the castle, the spires of which he could see over the next series of hills. If anyone were to look out a window…

"Quiet!" Kakashi hissed, and came forward to silence the animal. The great dog looked at him dolefully, but Kakashi imagined he saw a grin on its canine countenance. "I don't want to be caught," He told the animal, scratching it indulgently behind one huge, floppy ear. "I'll get in big trouble, you know." He patted the dog one last time before moving away. "So shut up, ok?"

Then he turned and walked away, but he could instantly sense that the dog was following him. Kakashi rolled his eyes, but could not help but feel secretly pleased that the dog seemed to like him. It reminded him painfully of Pakkun and his own pack of nin-dogs, which he had raised by hand at the age of five. He hadn't seen them since his last mission.

He ignored the hound as it followed quietly behind him, walking on towards the castle. He stopped dead in his tracks when the dog let loose another ear-splitting howl.

"Dammit!" Kakashi whirled around, his fingers reaching for the hidden kunai-holster he wore at all times, in spite of Dumbledore's wishes. The dog flinched away from him, but when Kakashi turned to hurry away, it bounded up to him and bowled him over, its saliva-laden tongue hanging precariously over Kakashi's nose. Shocked, Kakashi tried to budge the two thick legs on either side of his body, but the dog was obstinate.

Kakashi swore, and fixed the hound with a fearsome glare. This seemed not to faze the dog in the slightest, and he was forced to lie prostrate on the grass with the huge dog standing over him, the thin October sun shining in his eyes. It was strangely lulling, and much to his displeasure Kakashi soon felt himself growing sleepy. He knew his body was ready to abandon him in protest of the recent abuse.

He really was very tired.

A familiar voice jostled him from his growing stupor. "Oi, Fang! What in bloody hell—! Heel! Heel, Fang!" Kakashi heard heavy footsteps sounding near him, until a huge pair of boots entered his line of sight.

Kakashi inwardly winced. It was Hagrid, the half-giant that had brought him to Hogwarts weeks before. Suddenly he was very angry at himself for allowing his henge to dissipate back at the tunnel.

There was a silence as the shinobi and grounds-keeper looked at each other. "Why, if it ain't Kakashi Hatake!" the half-giant finally exclaimed. "Well done, Fang, you've gone an' found the boy who's missing!" Fang wagged his tail happily.

"Get the dog off me," Kakashi growled between clenched teeth. His temper simmered somewhere beneath his diaphragm.

Hagrid hastened to remove his beloved pet from atop the shinobi, sputtering apologies as he did so. "He's really very gentle, Fang is, I'm sure 'e didn't mean no harm."

He pulled Kakashi up and brushed him off, eyeing him concernedly. Kakashi sent him an unpleasant glare in return. He brought up a hand to feel at the mask he still somehow wore over his face, thankful that it was still in place even after the ordeal he had put it through.

"Everyone's been a tad worried about you, lad," Hagrid admonished.

Kakashi grunted noncommittally.

"Been hiding out in the woods all this time?" The half-giant pressed.

Kakashi shrugged.

Hagrid squinted at the young shinobi, "Well, yeh look a bit peaky," he said, and bravely weathered Kakashi's glare, "How 'bout we get yeh back to the castle, eh? Everyone's been looking for you."

Fang looked at Kakashi inquiringly, his enormous brown eyes framed in folds of skin.

Hagrid started leading Kakashi towards the castle, one trash-bin sized hand clamped down on his shoulder, just for good measure. It was a wise move.

"Harry's been talking about yeh lately," Hagrid said after a length of silence.

"Mm."

"Seems you and he haven't been getting along, eh?"

"Mm."

"He's told me everything's that happened." Kakashi decided peevishly that Hagrid's tone of voice was one he would expect to hear when one was talking to a very angry toddler on the verge of throwing an explosive temper tantrum.

"Oh, I'm sure he did," Kakashi replied tartly. "Hope he told you all about it."

"He says," Hagrid continued, his confidence visibly strengthening, "He says you were talking bad about Lily an' James Potter."

"Oh, are those their names, then?" Kakashi inquired offhandedly.

"You listen here, boy, if there's one thing you never do here, it's talk about You-Know-Who's victims with disrespect. _Especially_ Lily and James. Yeh don't seem to understand that that family's a hero in our world. Have yeh got heroes where you come from, Kakashi?" Hagrid's tone of voice was hard and challenging.

Kakashi directed a rigid gaze upwards to the grounds keeper's countenance. "Everything's relative where _I_ come from. Heroes can change to cowards in a heartbeat, and the other way around. Anything I said about those two was justified, there was no disrespect."

Hagrid's expression was impenetrable as he grumbled, "Tell that to Harry next time you see 'im. Then I'll tell _you_ he's justified in whatever it is he does to yeh."

Kakashi laughed harshly. He felt his patience waning as the castle approached. He was feeling increasingly dizzy as their debate continued, painfully aware that he was nearly depleted of chakra. "Do you even know what I said to Potter? Did he even tell you?"

Hagrid's face fell slightly, and Kakashi knew he had put him on the defensive. "He told me enough."

Kakashi nodded. "You and Potter are fairly close, aren't you?"

Hagrid's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I've known 'im since he was jus' a babe. What d'you make of it?"

"Good. I'm happy for him. It's one thing he can't whine about, at least."

Hagrid gave Kakashi an ugly look. "What does that mean, then?"

Kakashi shrugged. "Ask me again when you know where I've been for the last few days."

Hagrid paused, his heavy brow furrowed as he tried to dissect Kakashi's ambiguity.

"I'm tired," Kakashi announced. He decided then and there that he no longer desired to make his entrance inconspicuous. He wanted nothing more than a bed and some water, and maybe a chakra-infused IV drip.

"A'right," Hagrid conceded. His face seemed to soften slightly. "C'mon, Fang. Let's get Kakashi up to the castle."

* * *

Harry was in potions class when he heard about Kakashi's return. Some Slytherins were whispering about it from the other side of the room. "He was all bloodied up," Pansy Parkinson whispered. "There were scratches all over his arms and legs,"

"I saw him with that oaf, Hagrid, and his monstrous dog walking towards the castle." A second Slytherin added. "He was wearing muggle clothes and a mask for some reason."

Harry bristled at the comment about Hagrid and nudged Ron rather hard in the side.

"I was hoping he was dead," another sneered, "Merlin knows we don't need any more Gryffindor trash in this school."

"I'm glad he's back," Draco Malfoy said loudly, "I mean, think about it, maybe he and Potter will kill each other."

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed. "Yea, maybe they will kill each other, Draco!" Goyle echoed uselessly.

"I think they're talking about Hatake!" Herminoe whispered excitedly. Harry nodded and strained to listen while casting furtive glances towards Snape's form, which loomed menacingly over Neville at an adjacent table.

"You heard what happened, didn't you?" Malfoy continued. "He and Potter got into some sort of spat. Apparently Hatake was trying to throw Potter through the window and—"

"That's not how it happened," another Slytherin interrupted, "I heard Potter hexed Hatake and then Hatake was trying to strangle him with a bed-sheet,"

Hermione fixed Harry with a fierce glare upon hearing this.

"That's not how it happened!" Harry hissed indignantly.

"I don't care how it happened, it's that it happened at all!" Hermione replied testily.

"So then Longbottom tripped over his pajama leg and knocked all three of them down, and that's why Potter isn't dead and Hatake isn't an elephant." The Slytherin finished finally.

Malfoy shrugged. "Whatever. As long as one of them'll be dead by the end of the year, I'm happy. Just hope it's Potter."

Harry ground his teeth together, and had just opened his mouth to protest when a pair of berating knuckles cracked down on the top of his head. He cried out in unison with Ron and turned around to face their assailant.

In was Snape, in his usual bad humor. He withdrew his fists and wiped them on his robe, as if to rub the germs off. "Potter, I see your Chinese Fire Snail is much too finely chopped." He announced, "You'll have to do it over again. And Weasley, you should've used your silver knife to shred your Jimsonweed, not pewter. And since you've already added it to your potion, I'd advise you to start over again lest you desire to be subject to a test of your potion's potency. And all three of you need to stop disrupting my class!"

There was a brief mumbling of "yes sir," and the three fell into itchy silence for the remainder of the period.

They went straight to the hospital wing after potions ended. Hagrid and his boarhound Fang were waiting outside the hospital wing door, Hagrid perched atop a chair that seemed to buckle under his weight.

"Hagrid," Hermione said, as the giant dog jumped happily at Harry, "What are you sitting out here for?"

The half-giant beamed at the three of them "Ah, Madame Pomfrey's kept me in 'ere since I came in. Interrogations," he winced. "'Course she wouldn't allow poor 'ole Fang inside, so here I am."

"So you found Hatake?" Harry inquired anxiously.

"Aye. Fang found him, really." He reached down and patted the boarhound affectionately. "Kakashi's just inside. He looked fine when I saw 'im, but soon as we got inside he jus' collapsed on the bed. Madame Pomfrey's been making a terrible scene of it."

"Will she let us visit?"

Hagrid shrugged. "She might. Since yeh were the last to see 'im, Harry."

Harry nodded and turned towards the door, listening anxiously to what he was sure was Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall inside, taking turns to gruesomely admonish Kakashi. He grimaced as Professor McGonagall's voice took on a particularly piercing tone and he could clearly hear it through the door.

"—_and_," the professor raged, "You could've been killed by that blasted tree! Honestly, what on earth were you _thinking_, Hatake? I don't even know what to do with you!"

"And you've got a terrible fever!" Madame Pomfrey added vociferously and rather pointlessly.

Harry grimaced at his friends and bravely pushed the door open.

"Do you have _any_ idea how worried Dumbledore was for you?" McGonagall continued, oblivious to Harry's entrance and to Madame Pomfrey's halfhearted attempts to get her to lower her voice. "Merlin's beard, we thought you had died! We thought you had been—!" She broke off suddenly. "Well, you know what we thought."

Madame Pomfrey nodded vigorously, although it was clear that she for one did not know what they thought.

"Hatake," McGonagall said authoritatively, "I am detracting fifty points from Gryffindor for your idiocy,"

Harry winced. "Professor!" he interrupted.

The transfiguration teacher seemed not to notice. "And I'm giving you a week's worth of detention. Furthermore, I am requiring you to check in with me every night at curfew, and I expect to see you at every meal and in all your classes. Professor Moody has been asked to keep an eye on you, Mr. Hatake, and he can certainly tell when you send one of your clever imposters in your place."

Harry frowned at this. Imposters? Did Kakashi have Polyjuice potions?

Professor McGonagall seemed to have run out of breath to continue her tirade, so at last she turned to Harry. "What on earth do you want, Potter?"

Harry shrugged awkwardly. Now that he thought about it, he really wasn't sure why he wanted to come up here in the first place. "Just wanted to see if Hatake is okay, Professor,"

McGonagall narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Really, Potter?" It was not a question, but an accusation. "Very well, you may see him after Poppy has finished with him and after you answer a few questions for me."

Harry found himself whisked off to another room, where McGonagall proceeded to grill him for several minutes about what exactly had transpired before Kakashi's disappearance, and other questions of that nature. Kakashi had answered them all before and was beginning to reconsider the idea of visiting Kakashi when the teacher finally released him and he was allowed through the curtains surrounding Kakashi's bed.

It was the moment he stepped through the curtains that the awkwardness of the situation hit him full on. Kakashi was lying on the bed in striped pajamas, looking paler than Harry remembered and in rather a listless mood. His mask was mercifully intact, but for the first time Harry saw Kakashi without that dark headband over his closed left eye. The long, delicate scar that covered it took his breath away for a moment.

"Hello, Hat—Kakashi," he managed uneasily.

"Potter," Kakashi greeted. Harry could sense no emotion in his voice.

"Um…" he searched for words, "How are you?"

Kakashi shrugged. "Not so bad, really." To Harry's surprise, he smiled a bit. "I'm afraid Madame Pomfrey's making a bigger deal over me than I'm worth,"

Harry chuckled a bit, unsure of how to react to such a statement. His eyes wandered to the bedside table, where there sat a moist washcloth, a bottle of potion, and Kakashi's headband.

"So, where've you been all this time?" Harry asked finally.

Kakashi frowned. "The Shrieking Shack. Or so I'm told."

"Ah. That makes sense." Of course. No wonder Harry had been unable to see him on his map. "Why'd you go there?"

"I don't know. Just seemed like a nice place to relax for awhile, you know?"

"I guess," Harry replied slowly, failing to notice Kakashi's veiled sarcasm.

A long silence. Harry cast around for words as Kakashi examined the folds of his blankets, seemingly oblivious to Harry's unease.

Harry's mind found a topic and snatched it up eagerly. "So, the Goblet of Fire opens up in two days. Are you planning to submit your name?"

Kakashi looked up, his attention suddenly engaged again. He seemed torn. "I don't know. I think it might be interesting to try, but then again…what's the point of it, exactly?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, you know…like, fame and fortune and stuff like that."

"Hmm. Sounds rather pointless,"

Harry nodded eagerly. Finally, something they agreed upon. "Exactly. It does."

Kakashi nodded. It became clear that he had nothing more to say about the subject as his stare returned vacantly to the bed covers.

Harry knew what he should say next. He knew it, but he didn't want to say it. His mind mutinously echoed Dumbledore's words;_ Be the better man. For both your sakes. _"Look, Hatake," he said at last, "I feel like…"

Kakashi looked up inquiringly. And suddenly with Kakashi's attention on him, Harry found it immensely harder to continue.

"Well, I was thinking about what you said the other night, and why—you know, why it all had to happen like it did, about Moody's class, and what I said to you and…well you know, just the way everything happened. Seems kind of stupid, you know?" he paused.

Kakashi clearly did not know.

"What I mean to say is…it just seems like you and I didn't quite go about this right, did we? I mean you're offended and I'm offended and everything kind of went to hell the other night, and I really think everything would be easier if we just…" he trailed off. Kakashi was frowning, clearly lost. "Maybe we need to just…look someone clearly made some sort of mistake at some point and I think it would be best if there were some kind of amends to be made—I mean there are amends that need to be made." He looked imploringly at Kakashi.

The other boy was smiling very slightly, clearly mystified.

Harry set his jaw. "Look, I'm _sorry_, alright?"

Kakashi blinked. He still looked rather baffled, but nodded anyway. "Okay."

Harry waited. "Aren't you going to apologize?"

Kakashi frowned. "For what?"

The raven-haired boy felt his anger awaken explosively. He kept it confined to the spot just beneath his sternum. "For _what_?" he managed to choke. "For _everything_, dammit!"

Kakashi looked completely and genuinely perplexed.

Harry put his hands up. "You're insufferable, Hatake!" He was about to go on when Madame Pomfrey poked her head through the curtains.

"Keep it down, Mr. Potter! This is a hospital!"

"It's alright, Madame Pomfrey, I'm leaving anyway." With one last murderous look at the boy on the bed, Harry stormed out.

Ron and Hermione were still waiting outside when he emerged.

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione said, instantly alarmed.

"There's something seriously wrong with him," Harry said through clenched teeth. "There's something wrong in his head. He should be in Saint Mungo's."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed, but Harry wanted to hear none of it.

Ron winced at Hermione, and shook his head, mouthing, "Leave him be,"

With that Harry led them down to the great hall for dinner, where the meal was eaten in brooding, angry silence.

* * *

After Harry Potter's rather bothersome appearance, Kakashi slept most of the rest of the day. Strange, feverish dreams pestered him as he slept, and woke him from time to time. Every so often Madame Pomfrey would come in to give him potion and adjust his pillow, but mostly he inhabited a world of his own.

His dreams were restless and disturbing, and he didn't remember much of them. The one dream that bothered him the whole day was that of an enormous sphere that he was supposed to be building out of thousands of huge steel triangles. He would climb his massive structure and place the next triangle, but before long the unfinished sphere would crumble and fall around him, and he would have to start all over again.

He woke from time to time, but the dream would not go away and he would see it even in his wakefulness, and his hands would curl into fists as he tried to grasp at the triangles that weren't there.

Madame Pomfrey grumbled at him from somewhere outside the sphere, telling him that his fever was much too high and that her potions weren't working as well as they should. He would apologize to her and his sphere would fall down again.

Dumbledore floated through at some point, and Kakashi was roused enough to be admonished for the trouble he had caused. And that was that.

The next time Kakashi woke without the muddling haze of fever around him was sometime later that night. It was dark and quiet in the infirmary, and the curtains were drawn fully around his bed, creating a barrier between him and the rest of the hospital wing. He pulled on his mask and headband which were lying on the bedside table and looked at his striped pajamas with distaste.

He got up and swept back the curtains to look cautiously into the darkened hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey was in her office and the door was open, but her attention was focused on the paperwork on her desk.

Warily, Kakashi slipped between the curtains and went towards the door he knew to lead out into an empty hallway. He put his hand on the doorknob and rattled it decisively, but to his great annoyance, the door was locked.

And Madame Pomfrey was up from her office and advancing towards him at an alarming speed. "Mr. Hatake!" she shrieked, "Just _what_ do you think you're doing?"

Kakashi swore under his breath. "What are _you_ doing locking hospital doors?" Kakashi challenged hotly.

"It's only locked to you," Madame Pomfrey replied with a clear air of triumph, as she put her own pudgy hand on the door and pushed it open. "Professor McGonagall charmed it. She knew you'd be up to no good."

Kakashi sighed. How troublesome. "Well, if you wanted to keep me locked up, why not just put me in chains?"

"Oh, believe you me, Mr. Hatake, Minerva wanted to with all her heart. But Albus wouldn't hear of it. Besides, it's against school rules and you're still not well. Which is why you should be back in bed!" she put her wand to Kakashi's temple, ignoring his instinctive flinch, and muttered a spell under her breath. A row of smoky numbers appeared in the air. "Hmph! Your fever seems to have broken. But it's still much too high. To bed with you, Mr. Hatake."

Kakashi capitulated and allowed himself to be steered back to his bed, where the portly nurse fussed over him for some time before leaving him in peace. "I'll know if you leave your bed, Mr. Hatake, so don't leave it! You're staying here until morning." And thus were her parting words to him.

Kakashi didn't sleep after that. He had had enough of sleeping, and suddenly his mind felt electrified with sudden energy. It rushed ahead of him at an alarming speed, sorting through the implications of the chakra-possessing gray hawk he had encountered at Hogsmeade. It was definitely a summon; he was sure of that. But whose summon? It certainly wasn't Orochimaru's, but it could easily have belonged to one of his agents. But what kind of agent of Orochimaru's would be so shamefully indiscreet in his spying tactics? Next he entertained the idea that perhaps the summon belonged to a renegade shinobi that had come to Britain. That idea seemed slightly more likely, but even outcast shinobi tended to refrain from undue attention.

Kakashi sighed and resolved that he would have to sneak out of Hogwarts at some point and try to track the bird, or at least find some clues as to where it might have gone. Of course that brought up the problem of the security McGonagall had imposed upon him…if it was true that Mad-Eye Moody really could distinguish Kakashi from his bunshin clones, his custom of late-night wandering could be in trouble. But if he used Kage Bunshin clones, he could be indistinguishable to even Moody's magical orb. But then he had the problem of his perpetually draining chakra. Between daily classes and his own training, his chakra levels were at a near constant low. Adding Kage Bunshin to the mix in place of his usual dust bunshins could easily deplete his chakra completely.

Kakashi blinked as his mind returned him abruptly to reality. He could see pale moonlight from a slit in his curtains, reflecting off the metal frame of an unoccupied bed. Fleetingly, he remembered those moonlit nights he had spent with his team, for the short time they had been around. The moon looked bigger in his memories then it did now.

"Don't be ridiculous, Obito." Kakashi murmured under his breath, so quietly that he could barely hear it. "I'm bored, not homesick. _You're_ the one who gets homesick, not me." There was no reply in the quiet of the hospital wing, so his mind made one up. But for the first time in awhile, it was his own mind that made the words, it wasn't Obito himself speaking from somewhere within the depths of Kakashi's mind as he had so often done before. And although it was comforting, that made Kakashi a little sad.


	14. Chapter 14

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* * *

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Chapter 14: Kakashi's Green Letter 

Heh…hi. Yea, I know it's been a month. I feel kinda bad. It's like…a month. Dear god! I'm becoming one of those authors with like fifty year long waits between chapters! Gah. Well, school is my only (and completely valid) excuse. It's pretty intense. I don't know how long my next chapter is going to take, but don't be surprised if it takes as long as (or longer than) this one. So…yea. I think we need a labor union (high school students). Alright, I'll stop whining. Sorry 'bout that. Thanks for reading!

* * *

Kakashi was released from the Hospital Wing the next morning in a remarkably good humor, much to his own ire. He almost had to struggle to keep his customary scowl upon his face as he walked through the hallways towards breakfast, as if some weight had been lifted from him. He felt scoured and empty, but clean nonetheless, in a sort of pleasant exhaustion. 

He entered the Great Hall quietly and sat down at one of the more secluded parts of the Gryffindor tables, dodging the questions and stares thrown his way. Kakashi looked idly at the various foods before him before reaching out vaguely and piling a few biscuits on his plate, along with a large red apple. He examined the apple for a moment before slipping it into the pocket of his robes for later. He regarded the biscuits passively, his elbows on the table. Apparently Madame Pomfrey's many potions had slaughtered any semblance of an appetite he may have had. But perhaps this was a good thing, for merely seconds later the swarm of morning post-owls invaded the Great Hall, along with the mild chaos they brought with them. To Kakashi's immense surprise, one of them came flying at high velocity towards his biscuits, scattering them across the table as it landed atop them.

The owl struggled to its feet and ruffled its feathers peevishly, blinking at Kakashi. Kakashi blinked back. "Shoo," he said irritably, and waved a hand at the bird. The owl nimbly hopped over it, nipping Kakashi's knuckle as he did so. The shinobi leveled a fierce glare at the bird, but it seemed undeterred.

"You know, the letter is for you," a thickly-accented voice sounded from the other side of the table. It was one of the Durmstrang students, sitting alone, who had been watching him all along.

Kakashi looked at the young man, mildly surprised. "I don't get letters," he said.

"Apparently you do today," the Romanian replied, gesturing to the bird. The owl snapped its beak impatiently.

Kakashi shrugged and relieved the owl of its burden, examining the envelope cautiously. It was a fairly unextraordinary envelope, with no markings and an unfamiliar seal on the back. Kakashi was about to open it when he realized the Romanian was still watching him.

He cleared his throat pointedly.

"Yes?" the Durmstrang student asked.

Kakashi blinked, "Do you mind?"

"No, go ahead," the foreign boy said, waving a hand.

Kakashi sighed and put the letter in his robes for later. He picked up a new biscuit from the platter on the table and tasted it experimentally. His mouth felt too dry to get it down.

The Romanian student was looking forlornly towards the other side of the room, over Kakashi's shoulder. He drew a deep sigh.

"They are watching you," he said.

Kakashi blinked, rather startled.

The Durmstrang boy tilted his head towards the Ravenclaw table, and Kakashi turned to look. It was a group of giggling Beauxbatons students. One of them waved flirtatiously at him. He turned back to his plate.

"They should be looking at me," the boy said resentfully, jabbing a thumb at his broad chest. "I am a champion of my country. I am a man. And you are what, how old?"

Kakashi shrugged.

"You are fourteen, are you not?"

"I turned fifteen a few weeks ago," he said noncommittally.

The Romanian boy scoffed and shook his head, muttering something under his breath in his own language. "Do you like of them?"

Kakashi frowned. "Like of them?"

The boy gestured to the Beauxbatons girls, grimacing as he looked for the right words. "Do you like them, you know, their hair, their face…" he looked expectantly at the shinobi.

But Kakashi just shrugged. "I don't really care either way."

"If your name is chosen from the cup, they will all be upon you to dance."

Kakashi frowned. The boy's English was broken, but he could tell what he meant. "I don't dance."

The Romanian shrugged. "I would die to dance with one of them. And they would die to dance with you, you who do not care at all." The teen looked wrenched by the injustice.

Kakashi shrugged. "Sorry." He didn't wait for the Durmstang boy to start another sentence as he left the table, leaving the conversation behind. He headed towards the entrance of the great hall, intending to find someplace secluded to read his letter. But he was waylaid by none other than Mad-Eye Moody on his way.

"Why Hatake, lad, I've been looking for you," Moody said, as his great, vice-like hand clamped down upon Kakashi's shoulder.

Kakashi stiffened. He had never spoken to Mad-Eye alone before, and it suddenly felt rather uncomfortable.

"Been meanin' to talk to you about the Triwizard Tournament," The auror said.

"What about it?" Kakashi queried.

"Well, boy, are yeh planning to try for it?"

Kakashi shrugged.

"Cup opens up tomorrow, Hatake. Got to decide soon, eh?"

The shinobi fingered the edge of his letter under his robes. "I've been thinking…not to try," he allowed finally, forcing himself to look up into Moody's mismatched eyes.

The auror frowned twistedly. "I think yeh'd enjoy it. Get you a lot of attention, yeh know. The world would learn your name,"

Kakashi's senses tightened. He thought he could sense something dishonest on Moody's voice. And below that, something apprehensive buried deep under Moody's façade. Suddenly Kakashi wanted very badly to get away from him. But soon the moment passed as the auror moved closer, pulling Kakashi farther off to the side.

"'Course, you wouldn't want that," Moody said confidentially, his gnarled face just inches from Kakashi's. "Oh don't be alarmed, lad. Dumbledore's told me all about your little 'mission.' In fact, he's put me in charge of looking after your safety…and as that person, I'd like you to know that I think your participation in this tournament to be…unwise."

"Dumbledore says he'll provide for my secrecy," Kakashi said uncertainly.

Moody shook his head, his eyes deeply concerned. "Just between you and me, lad, Dumbledore can only do so much." He said earnestly. "He can keep your name and picture out of the newspapers, but the simple fact is, there are hundreds of people here who already know you. Mark my words, boy, things will get out, especially if you find yourself doing well in this competition,"

Kakashi said nothing, uncertain. Moody's grip on his shoulder was strong, almost painful.

Apparently Mad-Eye thought Kakashi needed more convincing, so he went on, "Dumbledore thinks it'll change you, this competition," he said, "He wants you to learn something. But I know your kind, boy, and you don't want to learn. Learning something like Dumbledore's got in mind for you will destroy what you already have. Isn't that right, ANBU?" Moody's gaze drifted down to Kakashi's left shoulder, where his ANBU tattoo laid under his robes. Kakashi had to suppress a shudder as he realized just how much Moody's eye could see. There was a long silence.

"You don't know me," Kakashi said finally. "And I'm not looking for advice." He shook Moody's hand away.

The auror stepped back with a shrug. "S'alright with me, boy. I didn't mean no offense. Jus' wanted to give you something to think about." The grizzled man moved away, then hesitated. "Oh, and don't let Dumbledore see those knives you've got under your robes. Could get you into trouble." With that he departed, leaving Kakashi pressed up against the wall, his good mood dead in its tracks.

* * *

The hours proceeded sluggishly for the rest of the day. Kakashi spent his morning evading questions and glances, and trying to ignore the ever-present glares of Harry Potter. All day long he fingered the edge of the letter still in his pocket, and pondered over Mad-Eye Moody's words. 

It was clear that the auror wanted Kakashi out of the tournament. And for awhile he sulked over the idea that it was just another adult trying to protect him. But something wasn't right. Over and over again he remembered the dishonesty in Moody's voice, and over and over again was unable to dismiss it to his imagination. No, Mad-Eye had deeper motives, and they didn't involve Kakashi. And because the shinobi couldn't begin to fathom what those motives were, he wrote the subject off as something he shouldn't pry in.

There was a more pressing matter, anyway. Of course Moody was right that Kakashi's participation in the Tournament would be a near sure-fire way to invite discovery by Orochimaru. But whether that was something Kakashi wanted to avoid was a different matter entirely. He bitterly remembered the hours he had spent training in the woods, isolated from his people in the name of safety, while somewhere in the world Orochimaru lurked and plotted unseen. If Kakashi could bring the Traitor to him, he could deal with Orochimaru himself and finally earn the respect he deserved, along with the privilege to return home. And if he died, well, he could rest peacefully in the knowledge that his name was next to Obito's on the Memorial Stone.

It was decided. He couldn't lose, Kakashi thought victoriously as he raised his wand and ground out some botched transfiguration spell. His pincushion burst into flames.

"Hatake!" Professor McGonagall shrieked. "Dear Merlin, what are you _doing_?" She pushed through the class and extinguished the blaze with her wand.

"Sorry, professor," Kakashi said distantly, as the classroom tittered.

On the other side of the room, Harry scowled. "Look at him. Thinking he's so amazing."

Hermione made no comment, but she and Ron exchanged a perfunctory glance.

"I mean, can you believe what he said when—"

"Harry," Ron cut him off. "Drop it, alright?"

The raven-haired boy leveled a disbelieving look at his friend, mouth hanging open slightly. Hermione turned away.

There was an intense silence, as Ron tried to weather Harry's slack-jawed glower. "Look, I'm sorry, Harry, but you've been acting really pig-headed around Hatake lately. Just give it a rest, alright?" Ron blurted at last.

Harry's gaze dropped to the table. "Didn't think you'd be so quick to turn against me," he said remorsefully.

"Look, mate," Ron said, in a futile attempt at damage control, "I'm not 'turning against' you. I just think that you and Hatake should just stay away from each other if you can't get along. Like Malfoy."

"Hatake's different than Malfoy." Harry shook his head crossly. "I see Hatake every day, for one. And at least Malfoy has the brains to realize that what he does pisses me off."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, Hatake is different from us. He comes from a different place, both physically and psychologically. If you can't tell that what he does isn't _meant_ to offend you…well, I feel sorry for you both."

Harry scowled at her. "Wow Hermione, I'm glad you understand," he snapped.

And that was how their conversation ended.

* * *

Kakashi knew something was wrong the moment he broke the letter's seal, and the paper inside was so violently green. With a grimace, he drew out the green letter and let it fall open, and looked at the unnecessarily extravagant script, which began thusly: 

_My Most Glorious Eternal Rival: _(and Kakashi groaned most heartily at this)

_Ha-ha! At last, I have found you! Clearly you thought you could hide from me, the Magnificent Green Beast! Well, not so, my Rival! Our most Youthful Leader says that I must keep your location secret, so there shall be no names in our correspondence! My Rival, I must say that I am appalled by your secrecy! GAH! You're so Hip and Cool, never writing a single letter. Well, I've found you after all, my Eternal Rival! Just for that, I think I have won this Battle! _(Kakashi wondered rather desperately exactly what battle was this)_ Our score is now at 22 to 20, in my favor! Ha-HA! _

_I'm sure you must be groaning in your Grief, my Rival, to be separated from our most Joyful and Peaceful Village for so long. So I will tell you our news, my Perpetual Competitor, for I am Immune to your Hip responses! Our most Wonderful Village is doing well. Our Splendid Leader says that the conflicts with our Adversaries are so far un-explosive. But the tension is high, my Rival. Truly it has been trying for the Chuunins and Jounins who have already fought. I myself was sent out to fight, but nothing happened and we were spared any Bloodshed. My Aura of Youth shall not be broken, my Rival! And I would rather die before I allowed the Fountain of Our Village's Joy and Beauty to be shattered! _

_Now my Eternal Adversary, you must write back and tell me all about your Youthful Pursuits in this new land. Our Glorious Leader has taught me about it, and he's even teaching me to make magical letters. I simply cannot wait to send you one! _

_With Sincerity,_

_Your Eternal Rival, the Magnificent Green Beast_

Kakashi stared slack-jawed at the letter, feeling the horror slowly dawn upon him. Kami-sama, Gai had found his address.

* * *

Later that night, just before curfew, Harry was sitting on his windowsill, stroking Hedwig and gazing at the letter that had just come from Sirius. It contained nothing unexpected, just the usual warning, "Stay in the castle and keep a low profile, Harry," and some nervous speculations on Harry's scar pains and dreams, "I'll see if I can do some research here, but in the mean time keep Dumbledore informed, Harry…" It really was very tiresome. Harry didn't want warnings and speculations. He was ready for answers, especially after the disagreement he had had with Ron. He sighed and sat back. Everything was going wrong. 

What would it be like, he wondered, to find Voldemort in the castle tomorrow, or the next day? What would happen? As if just to check, Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map and gazed at it for some time, surveying the landscape of tiny labeled points.

He gazed sadly at the dots labeled "Ron Weasley" and "Hermione Granger," where they sat together in the common room without him, Harry Potter.

The door opened, and Kakashi Hatake came in, looking listless. Harry started, he hadn't seen Kakashi on the Map. He grappled briefly with the urge to say the witty comment he had been thinking about since noon, but thought better of it.

"Hatake," He greeted stiffly, trying to suppress his glare.

"Mm," Kakashi nodded somewhat dully. He went to his bed and sat down on it.

Harry looked for something to say. "Um…did you remember to check in with McGonagall?"

Kakashi looked at him owlishly, mouth ever so slightly agape. "What?"

Harry blinked. "Remember…McGonagall said you have to check in with her before bed now," he trailed off.

"Oh…yes." Kakashi replied after long consideration. Then without further ado he turned away pulled the curtains around his bed.

Harry frowned. Something seemed off. Perhaps Kakashi was still tired from his illness. "Are you alright, Hatake?" He asked in a voice as concerned as he could muster. There was no answer from within the drawn curtains.

The teenager shrugged to himself and turned back to the map. Hermione and Ron hadn't moved from the common room, while Harry Potter's dot stood woefully alone in the circular dormitory. Completely alone, in fact. Because the room was very much devoid of a particular dot labeled "Kakashi Hatake." There was, however, one dot very far away in the middle of the woods, quite alone, and it was labeled with Kakashi's name. Harry's eyes widened.

* * *

A/N Hmm. Short, I know. Also this chapter had zero beta-reading. It definately wasn't my best work. This was my first ever attempt at writing Gai, and I'm not sure how well it came off (not that bad but probably not perfect). Please let me know what you thought. I also know how bitchy Harry was in this chapter. I really didn't plan for it to be like that, but it seemed to just write itself that way. He'll start reforming soon, though. The Goblet of Fire is probably coming up next chapter, and if not you can smack me around for drawing this story out so long (I mean, 14 chapters and I'm not even past October. --;). As for reviews, I'm declaring review bankruptcy (I'm giving up). I'll start replying to reviews submitted to this chapter, but I just don't have the time/energy to go back and reply to the others. But I appreciate them anyway! So bye, until next time… 


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15: The Goblet of Fire**

I just realized how long it's been since I put a disclaimer in here, so here it is: I do not own Naruto, Harry Potter, or anything else that some other rich jerk has already taken credit for. Bummer.

Ugh. Writing this chapter was like pulling teeth. Each word fought me until we were both bruised and bloody. Well, enjoy anyway.

There's some random angst in here, so beware of angst bunnies (oh noes!).

Oh, and remember when I said I'd reply to all of ch 14's reviews? That was a lie. Because I was expecting like…15, maybe 20 reviews tops. But you people gave me 45 for that chapter, which completely blew my mind and is really awesome in every other way but…I really can't handle such a massive reply effort at the moment. So as soon as my sanity returns to me, and my teachers grow some sense of mercy, perhaps I shall venture into the daunting waters of review reply. Until then…well, I love you anyway!!

Additionally, this chapter wasn't really beta-read because me and my beta reader are never online at the same time recently…I think it definitely could've used some editing because there's some actual shinobi-ness in this chapter, which I have mostly neglected thus far…oh well. Just letting you know. Also, I failed to consult the HP book on the Goblet details, so some things (like the color of its glow) are probably incorrect seeing as my descriptions are based on year-old memories of the movie. Some of my shinobi and chakra details might be off too, but if they are it's because I think they're better that way. Heh. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

It was October 30th, and Harry's scarf was blowing about his face as he sat outside facing the lake. Thin, waif-like clouds seemed to crouch haughtily just above the surface of the water, until the winds sent them on their way and the sun would glance down at the three wizards fleetingly, offending their eyes with bright rays. 

Harry had made amends to Ron and Hermione, mostly as a result of another strange, frightening dream that had visited him that night, reminding him that he needed all the friends he could get. So they sat together by the lake, watching the short waves and the occasional fish jump in comfortable silence.

"Hermione," Harry said, breaking the charm.

"Yes?" She closed her Transfiguration spell book.

"Is it…well, is it possible to be in two places at once?"

Hermione frowned. "Hmm. I suppose if you count Polyjuice Potion, yes. Otherwise I'm sure there must be some spell to do it, but I don't know any offhand…why do you ask?"

Harry sighed, and scratched absent-mindedly at the back of his neck. "I was reading the Marauder's Map yesterday, just for the sake of it, and I saw Hatake come in,"

The bushy-haired narrowed her eyes, making it clear that she would tolerate no reports of their customary bickering.

Harry didn't seem to notice. "—and I talked to him a bit…he seemed distracted. Then I looked at the Map and saw that he wasn't on it."

Ron grinned. "Cool. Got to ask Fred and George to spy on him for me. Steal his secrets, eh?"

"Yeah," Harry said inattentively, "And then I spotted him way out in the woods, somewhere out near the edges of the grounds, probably."

"Really?" Hermione sat up a little straighter. "I bet that's where he's been going all the time. But how could he possibly be in your dorm room and miles away from there at the same time?"

"Maybe he can apparate," Ron suggested. He saw Hermione opening her mouth to quote _Hogwarts, a History,_ and quickly amended, "I know apparation's impossible inside school grounds. I mean, like, shinobi apparation. I bet they have their own version or something."

"That's possible, but—"

Harry cut her off. "I would've seen him on the Map before he came in the dormitory, coming up the stairs or something. But he just wasn't there at all."

The three were silent for a few moments, Harry and Ron both waiting for Hermione to say something sensible.

"Well," she sighed finally, "I don't know what to say about that. If only Kakashi wasn't so secretive, we might have an answer. Bring the Map to breakfast tomorrow morning. I'd like to see that."

The clock tower bells rang at that moment, six deep throbs sweeping over the landscape.

"The feast is about to start," Hermione said, getting to her feet. "They're opening the Triwizard Tournament today."

Ron grinned in anticipation. "Can't wait to see how they're gonna chose the champions. I asked Fred and George to lend me a couple of their aging potions. Want one, Harry?"

Harry shook his head dismissively. The three of them headed up the hill towards the castle, and none of them had the slightest idea of how the next day would effect them.

* * *

Kakashi was sitting high in a tree when the clock-tower bells rang. It was a venerable old pine sitting on the edge of the Great Lake, close enough to the castle to see the huge bells swinging in their tower. Kakashi let out a frustrated breath and sat for a moment, inhaling the delicate scent of pine leaves. 

With resignation, he brought his hands together in a seal, and their shapes were lost in a blur of movement as he effortlessly preformed the justu. "_Kage bunshin!" _Seven exact replicates of himself appeared on neighboring branches, each looking up at him with the same identical scowl. Kakashi's Sharingan eye made a sharp twinge.

"You're going to send us to that idiotic feast, aren't you?" said the bunshin directly to his right, in a voice less than friendly.

Kakashi nodded sharply. "You know what to do."

The clone scoffed. "Tch. Bastard." The other clones murmured similar sentiments, even as six of them formed the henge seals and were engulfed in a brief cloud of smoke, to emerge in the shapes of the six ANBU guards.

"Dumbledore wanted guards today," Kakashi informed them. He waved a dismissive hand. "So go and look interested."

The six doppelgangers leveled exasperated looks at him before shooting away like arrows towards the castle, leaving only one clone remaining, still with Kakashi's image.

"What are you waiting for? Go." Kakashi said, settling comfortably back on his tree branch and rubbing a little brown spot of pine-sap from his palm.

The clone sighed a bit, and glared at Kakashi with some resentment. "Why don't you go? I don't want to be there."

Kakashi rolled his eyes. "Go for the food, if nothing else. It's not like you have to do anything but sit there."

The bunshin shrugged, rolled its own mismatched eyes, and was gone through the trees in the blink of an eye. Kakashi watched the clone for a moment, racing off through the tree branches, and turned back to his own mission—there was pine-sap stuck under his fingernail.

"Kage bunshin," he sighed to himself. "Such a pain." And they were, of course. Aside from the monstrous amount of chakra they required to maintain, they were also capable of independent thought, unlike dust and water bunshin. And that of course always led to some amount of bickering—who was responsible for killing who, and of course which one had to clean it up. These were just minor setbacks, of course, compared with the usefulness of Kage Bunshin. Not only could they make their own decisions in case of a change in the mission plan, they were also made of Kakashi's own chakra, so, presumably, certain troublesome wizards wouldn't be able to tell a Kage Bunshin from Kakashi himself. And if not to achieve that, in the very least, what was the point of this whole ridiculous affair?

Kakashi watched the last dregs of students disappear from view and settled back against the tree, folding his hands neatly over his stomach. He couldn't stop a tiny smile from creeping over him as he took in the glorious view, now bathed in deep orange from the setting sun. If he squinted just right, and crossed his eyes a little, the castle looked just like a Daimyo's mansion he had guarded with the Yondaime once, at the long-ago age of seven. That mission was one he was supposed to have completed next to his father rather than sensei—he had promised to take his son on a mission—but Kakashi had been perfectly unsurprised when the apologetic blond met him at the village gates instead. His father had taken an emergency mission on the front lines, and six months later, he was dead.

The shinobi allowed his mind to take him back to that dewy memory, back to the days when things weren't so bad. Of course, being a child of seven, Kakashi had naively believed that his circumstances couldn't get much worse, with his mother gone and his father constantly fighting battles, and the village swept up in war. After that, when his father died, he assumed that he had hit rock bottom. There was nothing else to lose. Then along came Obito, who left barely minutes after opening the door to walk into Kakashi's life. Rin came next, her death in a tiny village's pneumonia hospital ward adding insult to Kakashi's injury. Sensei's passing was hardest, and Kakashi blamed himself because he had expected it, even morbidly _wanted_ it to happen, just to prove to himself that someone—the Gods maybe—had it in for him.

So there Kakashi was, sitting at the top of a tree like a battered squirrel who knows he's damned, wondering with a morbid curiosity exactly how many more branches would break from underneath his feet before he finally came crashing to a bloody, blessed halt against the ground. Kakashi smiled a bit, somehow amused by his own nihilism.

By the time the shinobi's mind had wandered back out of its reverie, the sky had turned a tepid gray as dusk settled and, judging by the lights coming from the castle, the feast was well on its way. Kakashi stretched and slipped deftly down from the tree's embrace. There would be no practice for him tonight; his chakra was too low. Besides, there was an old itch growing once again in his mind: he felt that perhaps he was ready to fly a broomstick.

* * *

Later that night, just after bedtime, Kakashi returned to the castle with bruised and muddied knees, but with spirits as high as they had been since he left Konoha. He had succeeded in getting the broom to jump into his hand, and even made it float a ways off the ground for a few seconds, before it would bring him tumbling to the ground again. He remembered what Madame Hooch had said, that it had been a flaw in his thinking. It irked him a bit to know that she was right, but at the same time, he was pleased to see his progress. 

The castle was dark, the cavernous main hallway empty. Kakashi looked upwards and could vaguely see the shapes of the magical staircases moving silently from one place to another. He inhaled the deep scent of old stone, old books, and old magic, and he had to smile. There was something remarkable about this place, when the throngs of the oblivious and self-absorbed were out of sight.

A pair of eyes blinked from underneath a chair, and Kakashi's keen senses picked up the sound of claws clicking against the aged stone floors. It was that cat—Mrs. Nibbles?—that belonged to the janitor. The shinobi retreated into the shadows of a doorway, and listened for Filch's approaching footsteps. They did come, presently, but Kakashi was long gone before the light from his candlestick so much as stroked the floor.

Kakashi next appeared, ghostlike, in the sidechamber of the Great Hall. He immediately spotted Mad-Eye Moody seated, draped in shadows, against the wall. His magical eye caught a gleam from the bluish light from the Goblet of Fire.

The shinobi retreated quickly back into the Great Hall, before that perceptive orb could catch a glimpse of him. It was at that second that a lock clicked loudly from across the chamber, and someone stepped inside the hall with what could only be a wizard's pathetic attempt at stealth. It was a Slytherin boy, with a wand and a crumpled piece of paper clutched in one tensed fist. Kakashi rolled his eyes. Stupid boy, endangering both their missions.

The silver-haired teenager watched the boy advance across the hall, on the balls of his feet, head swiveling nervously from side to side. He walked right past Kakashi, even looking directly into his eyes, so close that the shinobi could see the size of his unseeing pupils in the blinding darkness. But the boy walked on, mistaking Kakashi for a shadow.

The Slyterin's hand had just lighted upon the doorknob to the Goblet's chamber when Moody's chair scraped loudly from within, and the teen withdrew his hand as quickly as if it had burned him. He froze in his tracks, just like a Genin facing his first unfriendly kunai, as the door opened and the Goblet's bluish glow flooded a circle from the door.

"Evening, Horace," Moody rumbled with just a hint of smugness. "You have the distinct honor of being the—" He paused to consider a moment, "Fourth student I have caught out of bed tonight."

The Slytherin's shock quickly dissolved into an obstinate sulk. "The Goblet of Fire is open all night long," he protested, "You have no right to—"

"Oh, shut yer mouth, you sniveling, pathetic excuse for a wizard. It's open all night long, of course; I certainly didn't close it. Perhaps if you had been slightly less conspicuous, I wouldn't have stopped you, and yeh would've been free to do whatever you pleased. But you didn't do that, so there you have it."

The teenager narrowed his eyes. "Well, I didn't _expect_ you to be here."

Moody's abrupt bark of laughter echoed around the Great Hall, warping the noise into the laugh of a madman. "That, my foolish friend, is why you should have CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

The Slytherin jumped, visibly shaken.

"Go back to bed, boy. And don't bother putting yer name in that cup tomorrow. Yeh've got no chance."

The teen opened his mouth to protest, but the words seemed to die on the trip from his brain to his tongue, and he deflated.

"There's a good boy," Moody said patronizingly, "Off to bed with yeh. And keep yer eyes open for other wanderers such as yourself."

The Slytherin turned to go, his fists clenched in humiliation, and scuffing his feet all the way to the door. Moody continued to loom in the doorway, his shape creating a hulking shadow across the door. His magical eye roamed the room for a few seconds, sweeping over every crevice in search of other midnight prowlers. Luckily for Kakashi, the eye did not continue its rounds up to the ceiling, and he returned to his vigil.

The young shinobi released the chakra in his feet and dropped lightly to the ground, and stood for a moment to think about his situation. Why was the auror here? Surely he had better things to do than sit next to the Goblet all night long to stop students breaking curfew. Kakashi thought it was a bit audacious to assume the man was there specifically to keep him away, but he couldn't find a better reason and his mind kept dragging up that conversation they had shared the other morning. For whatever reason, Mad-Eye Moody had decided that Kakashi's participation in the tournament was undesirable, and now he was here to make sure it didn't come to pass.

Kakashi briefly wrestled with the possibility of simply letting the whole ridiculous business die…he could come back in the morning, when Moody had no right to stop him, or, better yet, he could just abandon the whole preposterous affair.

At these gutless thoughts the Obito in him yelled obscenities and flailed his hypothetical fists…to give up now would be tantamount to heresy.

Kakashi put his hands together. _"Kage bunshin," _and a single, identical doppelganger appeared by his side. They exchanged a nod, and then the clone pushed the door open, and disappeared into the room.

The teen put his ear to the door. He heard his bunshin whisper an illusionary genjutsu, followed by the gentle rushing sound which meant the jutsu was in effect. Whether or not his plan would work, Kakashi didn't know. Everything depended on whether the auror's eye could see through chakra.

He knew Moody could see through simple jutsu like dust bunshin, and it was probable that he could see even henged Kage Bunshin as Kakashi himself, due to the chakra that ran through them. But bunshin and henges, simple shinobi jutsu, were manipulations of the senses—sight and sound…genjutsu, on the other hand, was a manipulation of perception—the mind itself. And Moody's eye would be helpless to discern truth from reality if his mind was already under the influence of genjutsu.

He listened to his bunshin's footsteps as they padded quietly from the door. The clone was a test. The genjutsu was weak, due to Kakashi's heavily depleted chakra, but its integrity would hold until something too blatant to go unnoticed happened before Moody's eyes. If the bunshin stood before the auror long enough, and maybe waved its arms a bit, the wizard would become aware of it.

And indeed, the auror was silent until several seconds later, when he said, in a rather abrupt voice, "Why, Hatake, lad. I thought I might be seeing you here tonight."

"Figured it would be a nice night for a walk," the kage bunshin said airily.

Moody chuckled loudly as Kakashi slipped soundlessly through the door and shut it behind him, watching the grizzled auror and Kakashi's mirrored bunshin converse, their droll humor just barely concealing mutual distrust.

Kakashi pulled out a kunai and a scrap of paper bearing his name, and tied a piece of hair-thin wire to the handle. He skewered the parchment on the knife's tip. Experimentally, he let it fly in a high arc towards the cup on its pedestal—it hit some invisible barrier about three yards from the cup, and ricocheted at an alarming speed towards the ground. Kakashi yanked sharply on the wire, pulling the kunai back to him before it could strike the ground and raise a clamor that would not go unnoticed by Mad-Eye. Next he made a simple dust bunshin, and sent it towards the cup. It too advanced to the same spot, before disappearing with a soft crack and a puff of smoke as it disintegrated before the invisible line.

Moody paused mid-sentence, and looked around Kakashi's Kage Bunshin. "You hear something, lad?"

"There's a rat in the corner," the clone said with a shrug, and they went back to their conversation. The clone put its hands together discreetly, and a gentle rushing noise filled the chamber as the genjutsu was reinforced.

Kakashi made a second Kage Bunshin, ignoring the sharp twinge given by his Sharingan and the weight that settled in his arms as his chakra drained considerably. This time, the age line's reaction was startling. The Bunshin poked a finger across the imperceptible barrier, which instantly turned a shade of icy blue, and some invisible force caught the Bunshin around the stomach and sent it flying backwards, tumbling head over heels until it came to a stop with a very full and robust beard billowing at a rapid speed from under the Bunshin's mask, much to its evident horror. Mortified for the both of them, Kakashi dismissed the clone and felt at his own cloth-covered chin, just to check.

But he had a greater problem—Mad-Eye Moody was on his feet, and staring at him very definitely, his magical eye darting back and forth between the shamefaced clone and Kakashi.

"H-Hatake!" He stuttered in shock, "What are you—"

Kakashi didn't hear the rest. He put his hands together in a blur of seals as the chamber faded around him in a swirl of blue and gray, and he came to a halt in the exact same spot, but one floor above. On the floor below, Kakashi's Kage Bunshin disappeared with a bang and cloud of steam, leaving the surely bewildered Moody alone in the Goblet chamber.

Kakashi let out a breath, and thanked the Yondaime for inventing his translocation technique, and for demonstrating it enough times for Kakashi to secretly learn it.

From there he knew what he would do. He walked forward exactly three and a half yards, to position himself within the circumference of the age line, and crumbled his parchment up into a little ball for easier throwing. The shinobi took a breath, and using his dead sensei's original technique, he transported himself back to the floor below. In the half-second he was there, he tossed his parchment a few feet into the Goblet, caught a glimpse of Moody searching for him in the Great Hall, and translocated himself back to the floor above.

And with that it was done. And it didn't feel nearly as good as it should've…Obito wasn't even gloating in his head. Kakashi sighed as he headed out of the empty classroom he had found himself in, and pointed himself in the general direction of his dormitory room. He had many more rewarding experiences in the realm of the outwitting of authorities, and this one was complicated by the fact that now Moody knew of his ability to duplicate himself. All in all, it was only barely a victory.

Kakashi couldn't quite keep his feet from dragging by the time he had scaled the seven floors to the Gryffindor common room. By the time he collapsed on his bed, he could almost feel his chakra coils shrinking with emptiness. He would have to avoid such foolishness in the future…and this was his last thought before sleep overtook him.

* * *

A/N: So there it was. Now, my definition of bunshins and kage bunshins has changed since chapter 4 or so…for those of you who are confused on that count, there are inconsistencies that I am aware of, but I don't know how to go back and write over them (heh) so they might be there awhile. If anyone is confused about the differences I've established between bunshins and Kage Bunshins, say so (nicely please) in a review and I'll write up an explanation that will be posted on my user page. This will entail their abilities, disadvantages, Kakashi's habits with them, and their effect on his chakra, etc. Then you can look at it and our respective brains will get on the same page. 

Now it's really late and like 2 AM and I haven't done any of my homework, and I sincerely doubt that any of the preceding 4000 words have made the slightest bit of sense, so I'm gonna end this here. Please review because I need to know that someone will be angry at me if I stop writing this nonsense (no I'm not abandoning the story, please don't tell me not to, I just need some more motivation). Lol. I really need to go to bed. Goodnight.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16: The Triwizard Champions**

Hello! Short chapter this time around. Thanks to all my reviewers, patient readers, and my beta reader Arashinobara Jikkankakyoku.

Thanks for reading, enjoy.

* * *

The following day found Kakashi being hassled in McGongall's office. This really didn't come as a surprise; in fact, the shinobi had been waiting for it all day. Interestingly enough, Moody apparently hadn't told McGonagall that Kakashi had been in the Goblet's chamber. This seemed curious to the shinobi, because it meant whatever Mad-Eye had been up to didn't concern Hogwarts' disciplinary officials. That was his last thought before he tacked an appropriately attentive expression on his face in hopes of appeasing the angry Deputy Headmistress, and he had since then drifted into some remote reverie involving the joys of miso ramen soup.

"Hatake!" The illusion shattered, and McGongall raised a spindly hand to rub at her temples. She sighed. "Mr. Hatake, do you even know why you are here?"

Kakashi rifled through the memories of the last twenty-four hours, "I cut class and didn't check in last night," he said in the guiltiest tone he could muster.

The witch narrowed her eyes humorlessly. "That's not what I mean, Hatake, and you know it. You need to consider why you are _here_, and more importantly, why you choose to stay. I think that's something you need to figure out before the names are drawn from that goblet this afternoon."

Kakashi blinked, taken aback. He thought he'd known exactly what McGonagall was implying, but he certainly hadn't expected anyone to come out and say it so bluntly. "I—I'm protecting the relations between Hogwarts and my village," he said with a distinct lack of conviction.

McGonagall looked unimpressed. "I am Professor Dumbledore's right hand, Mr. Hatake. Perhaps he didn't inform you, but I am entitled to all information that arrives through him about you, as a member of my House." She gave him a meaningful glance, "If you ever feel the need to talk about something…well, it is my job, Mr. Hatake."

Kakashi almost laughed. Almost. He was very glad he didn't, because the witch looked very uncomfortable with this moment of sincerity, and if the contemptuous laughter echoing hollowly around Kakashi's head had left his lips, he would certainly have made an enemy of one of the very few people willing to help him.

A few months ago, he wouldn't have cared.

"Thank you, Professor." He narrowly suppressed the instinct to bow low, as he would have done back in Konoha. Then he sat awkwardly at the witch's desk for a few moments until she benevolently released him.

Kakashi wandered aimlessly down the corridors in the general direction of the kitchens. He had made a deal with the house elves some weeks back; they were to give him food and beverage when he came knocking, and he would spare them their lives. It seemed a rather one-sided relationship, Kakashi thought later, but it served its purpose. He was in the mood for pumpkin juice, with maybe a dash of Fire Whiskey in it—just enough to get him pleasantly warm, and expel those nagging thoughts from his head. Usually he would stick with the milder butterbeer to cheer him up, but today he felt the need for something extra. Besides, he thought reasonably, it wasn't going to become a habit or anything.

The young shinobi ran an agitated hand through his silver hair. McGonagall's words had disturbed him. He knew only one reason why he was here, and likewise the same reason for why he had to stay—those were his orders. And to go against the orders of the Sandaime were to go against everything he had ever had to believe in. Perhaps there was something wrong with that, thought a little voice in the back of Kakashi's head, to have nothing to fight for outside the biddings of that village.

Kakashi blinked forcefully, as if to banish such thought from his mind. That village had raised him. Konoha had fed and clothed him when no one else could. It was in Konoha that whatever few friends he possessed had lived. And yet, in Konoha resided the people who had forsaken Kakashi's father, who had thrown stones at them, who had sent Kakashi out at the frail age of six to fight a war for a cause he didn't understand. Yet in spite of everything, he fought for Konoha because Konoha was all he had to fight for.

The shinobi brought a hand up to rub at his brow, kneading the spot just above his eyes. He really needed that Fire Whiskey. He was making a beeline for one of the shortcuts he had found, when his path was intercepted by two red-haired wizards. Their chins were covered with tiny shaving cuts and white stubble. Evidently, they had recently had an ill-fated encounter with Dumbledore's age line.

"Hatake!" said Fred Weasley. "Just the man we wanted to see."

"Dammit," Kakashi swore, although he hadn't meant to let the expletive leave his head. "Get out of my way."

"And where would _you _be going, Kakashi-_san_?" George said in a singsong voice, putting extra stress on the 'san' and bowing low. "Don't run from us."

"I'm hungry."

"Meals may be had in the Great Hall from the hours of 6:30 to 9 in the morning, 11 to 1 in the afternoon, and 5 to 7:30 in the evening." Fred said in a scholarly tone. "If your tummy feels a bit vacant between those hours, you're always welcome to—"

Kakashi ground his teeth, and said a bit more forcefully than he had intended, "What do you people want from me?"

George blinked indignantly. "_You people?_ My, my, my, Fred, I think ickle Hatake's having a bad day."

"So it seems, George. Have a Popping Pepper, my snappish friend," Fred produced a round, brightly-colored candy from inside his robes. "It's one of our own inventions. Rather experimental in nature, I must admit, but it's been tested…hasn't it George?"

"Of course!" the red-haired young man smiled winsomely.

Kakashi eyed the offering doubtfully, and pushed it away. "If you want something from me, just come out and say it. I don't have time for either of you."

"Our friend seems to be a bit bothered about something. He must be in a hurry. We're really quite rude to keep young Hatake waiting, isn't that so, Gred?"

"'Tis truly despicable form, Forge, old chap," was Fred's cheerful rejoinder. Kakashi barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes at the pointless banter. "We've come to see you, O' great keeper of foreign wisdom, because we wish to know how you got your name into that Cup."

"I didn't." Kakashi said sweetly. He even smiled.

Fred and George treated him to their own, equally sweet grins. "Now now, Kakashi, no need to pull the ole' wool over our eyes. We know you got past that age line, and all we want is for you to tell us how."

Kakashi sighed, and rubbed at his temples again. "Well, you know wrong. My name isn't in that Cup."

The twins looked momentarily stymied. "So much for reaching towards the stars, Hatake," George mumbled with a roll of his eyes.

"You're not very ambitious, are you?"

Kakashi smiled, this time without humor. "No, I suppose I'm not. Quite unlike you two, I'm sure."

Fred grinned charmingly. "Right you are, old bean."

"So let's move on to a hypothetical, shall we? Perhaps you _didn't _put your name in, but if you _had_, how would you have done it?" The twins looked at him expectantly.

"Well, I don't know how _I_ would've done it, but if I were _you_, I would've used the _Prociferatus Anticoagulus_ spell. It's quite good. I heard about it from that Granger girl. You'd better go ask her about it."

Fred turned to George with an intrigued expression. "Prociferatus Anticoagulus?"

"I've never heard of it. You?"

"Never."

"What d'you imagine it does?"

"Blows stuff up, I'd reckon."

"Nothing wrong with that."

"Nothing at all."

Kakashi interrupted, "Well, you'd better get to that. You've only got three hours left."

Fred grinned, and clapped Kakashi on the back. "Well, then, why don't you whip out that old wand of yours and demonstrate, eh?"

"Sorry, I don't know how to do it," Kakashi apologized, rather amusedly. "I think Granger's the only one who really knows."

George beamed. "Smart man, this one. Smart man. C'mon, Fred, let's go find Granger." With that the two took off down the corridor with their robes billowing behind their retreating forms, disturbing the delicate speckling of dust that shimmered in the sunlight.. Without a backward glance, the shinobi turned and continued on his way.

Ten minutes later, Kakashi had a bottle of pumpkin juice and Fire Whiskey in one hand, and a warm strawberry tart in another. A subtle smirk had settled under his mask, as the warming beverage eased the misgivings from Kakashi's mind, and his musings were free to dwell on lighter and more trivial subjects—such as just what exactly the Weasley twins would do when they discovered that _Prociferatus Anticoagulus _was not a real spell.

Obito would have been proud of him.

* * *

Kakashi spent the next three hours lingering in one of the courtyards near the Great Hall, listening to the buzz of excited students and watching as several impressive-looking wizarding officials arrived and disappeared into the Great Hall. One woman, a reporter by the looks of her, scuttled from student to student looking for interviews. She had a bright, sickly green quill that took notes for her as she looked at her subjects with an admirable imitation of rapt interest.

At some point her rounds brought her over to Kakashi, where he sat alone on a bench under the apple tree. She smiled charmingly at him, and planted herself austerely at his side. Kakashi edged away just a bit, and otherwise ignored her.

"Well, my, my. What's a handsome young man like you doing all alone?"

Kakashi showed her the empty pumpkin juice bottle.

"Fascinating!" the acid-green quill fluttered over paper. "Well young man, you look like you have opinions, if your unique hair is anything to judge by. Tell me, are you excited for the tournament?"

Kakashi shrugged.

The reporter woman blinked. "Don't be shy, dear. Give us something to go on."

"There's really not too much to tell," he said.

The woman looked almost offended. "Of course there is! Tell me, young man, who do you think will win the honor of competing for Hogwarts?"

He tossed his shoulders and looked idly across the courtyard.

The woman took his indifference as an opportunity to change the subject. "What do you think of the injustice that Harry Potter, savior of the modern world, is not of age to put forth his name? Don't you think that he has more than earned his right to do so?"

Kakashi waved an indifferent hand. "Potter? I don't get the feeling he really wants to participate."

This seemed to catch the reporter's attention. "Really! What makes you say that?"

The young shinobi shrugged, and his eyes curved upward in a polite smile. "I can't say. Maybe he just has too much homework."

The woman looked at him admiringly, with a knowing shake of her head. "He must be taking all the hardest courses. He's at the top of his year, isn't he? Tell me, boy, are you jealous of his obvious talent?"

"Oh, absolutely; I don't know anyone who isn't." He directed his stifled smirk towards the other side of the courtyard. Somehow, the acidicwoman failed to catch his sarcasm.

The quill darted furiously across the page. "Very good, then. Very good. Excellent material. Well, I'm off." She allowed Kakashi to catch one last glimpse of her glittering and perfectly straight teeth, before hurrying away to interview a group of tittering first-year girls.

Kakashi left the courtyard minutes later, seeking a quieter haunt. He found it by the Great Lake, in the midst of a thicket of trees. The shinobi laid himself out inches from the shore, with his back against a trunk and his legs crossed comfortably over each other. He pulled his headband down over his right eye, hoping the sun and gentle swishing of the leaves would allow him to doze off and _accidently_ miss the ceremony. His attempt was promptly foiled as a shadow fell across his face.

"_Prociferatus Anticoagulus?_ Honestly, Kakashi."

Kakashi's ears twitched unpleasantly. He knew that nag. "Go away, Granger. I'm trying to sleep."

"It isn't nice to be bothered, is it?" Harry Potter's slightly troubled voice sounded from behind him. "What are you doing out here, Hatake?"

"I could ask the same of you," Kakashi answered evasively, "But when it comes down to it, the answer doesn't much matter to me."

"We're avoiding Rita Skeeter," Ron Weasley piped up, rather to Kakashi's annoyance. "And my brothers, Fred and George."

"I just spent fifteen minutes trying to convince them that 'Prociferatus Anticoagulus' doesn't exist." Hermione huffed, "Do you have _any_ idea how wound up you've got them?"

"They'll make sure you get yours," said Ron, and Kakashi could hear the grin on his voice, "Take it from someone who knows."

"I'm not too worried." Kakashi suffered to open his eyes and raise himself to a more upright position, as Hermione was trying to sit down beside him. Ron planted himself at Hermione's side, but Harry lingered near the shore.

Hermione glanced worriedly towards the castle, with her nose wrinkled. "Have you seen that crow, Rita Skeeter? She has a way of sneaking up on people."

"She's been stalking us," Ron supplied under his breath.

"That reporter woman, you mean? She's up near the Great Hall." He wondered whether to tell Potter that she had asked about him, but decided against it. That would no doubt lead to some sort of conversation between them, which, needless to say. was something to be avoided.

"She's gotten to you then, too?" the bushy-haired girl shook her head angrily. "That horrid woman has been writing lies in the Daily Prophet for years. Now she's gone after Harry."

"He's practically got his own column," Ron added.

Harry turned around. "Let's not talk about that now. I really don't want to think about it."

Kakashi chuckled inaudibly. Finally, Potter had revealed an actual, legitimate reason to be miserable. Kakashi almost felt sorry for him.

The little group sat silently for a few moments, and tension grew with each second. Ron coughed conspicuously.

It was Harry who broke the silence. "Dumbledore said you could enter the tournament if you could get past the age-line. Did you do it?"

Kakashi watched a twig sway gracefully in the water as he considered his answer. Ron was looking at him acutely: if he said yes, there would no doubt be an instant outcry against him for not sharing his technique. And if he said no, he would be scolded for his lack of initiative.

"Fred and George said he didn't," Hermione said disapprovingly before Kakashi could devise a suitable lie, and she leveled the shinobi with a stern glare. "He really _should_ have, of course, if Dumbledore thinks he's capable. But at least he has principles—personally I think it's ridiculous that anyone our age would be pressured into participating, if _Hogwarts, a History_'s account is anything to go by, but if Dumbledore thought he could do it…" Hermione trailed off rather breathlessly.

Kakashi said nothing, looking blankly out towards the center of the lake. A heavy silence fell over them.

And then Harry spoke. "You're in two places at once, Hatake. Seven, actually. How do you do that?"

Kakashi did a double take to see if he was hearing correctly. His six bunshin clones were guarding the entrance of the Great Hall as they spoke, a show for the diplomats, and far away from Potter and his friends. How could Potter possibly know? Suddenly, he felt distinctly trapped, the questions of his peers crowding around each other in his head.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."

The younger Gryffindor studied him, as did Ron and Hermione. Harry wondered whether or not to mention the Marauder's Map. No, he decided, he would never share that scrap of his father with this boy who had disregarded his death. "Sometimes you—don't play dumb with us. Is it a spell? Or is it Japanese magic?"

"Maybe you should get your eyes checked," Kakashi said unperturbedly. "Those glasses look a bit too tight, you must be seeing double."

Harry's eyes narrowed, and Hermione gave him a warning look. Kakashi could read the look well: it said, _"Don't press him,"_ and for some reason this made him greatly annoyed.

"Kakashi," Hermione said in a level tone, "What Harry's _trying_ to say is that sometimes it seems like you're never where you're supposed to be. You skip classes and you stay out past curfew; and even when you're in the right place it always seems like you're mind's somewhere else. It's rather worrying—I mean to say, we don't want you to get Gryffindor in trouble." Ron gave her a puzzled look at this abstraction, and she shrugged at him.

Harry seemed as though he was trying to settle on whether or not to agree before deciding against it. "I wasn't being figurative, Hermione; you've seen it too."

Kakashi shook his head as if genuinely puzzled. "All three of you have seen it? Goodness, that's concerning. Is there anyone else? Perhaps they should check the water; it could be contaminated with something." He got to his feet. "I'll be sure to let Madame Pomfrey know. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I hear Peeves harassing a First Year. Feel better soon," he bowed graciously and departed, shutting his ears to their cries of protest.

* * *

If there was one thing Kakashi was not in the mood for that day, it was public scrutiny. So the shinobi sent a resentful kage bunshin clone to the feast in his place, replacing four of his six kage bunshin guards with dust bunshin to conserve his chakra.

He didn't abandon the scene altogether, however. He sat in the rafters with a concealment jutsu over him, confident that the technique would couple with the darkness of the cloudy ceiling to make him invisible. He watched silently from above as the names of the three champions were drawn from the Goblet. He watched his own name fly from the cup, and saw identical looks of indignation cross the faces of Fred and George Weasley.

And then he watched as Harry Potter's name emerged, and saw confusion on Harry's face, the stunned silence of the crowded hall, the outrage in the aged headmaster's eyes. He saw the way Harry turned pleadingly to Ron, and the sudden, blank numbness suffusing Ron Weasley's expression as their friendship fractured in an instant.

Kakashi couldn't help but groan. What had Harry Potter gotten himself into?


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: The Man in the Tavern**

A/N Brace yourself for a very long author's note. You can skip down to the chapter if you don't want to read it all.

I'm getting all sorts of requests about people's expectations for this fic…they can't wait until Kakashi does so and so, Harry finds out such and such…basically, some readers are hoping for a fic that is nothing more than Hatake Kakashi injected into the Harry Potter world—their favorite character into their favorite story. But that is not what I hope to accomplish. I can't write every scene that everyone wants to see and still maintain the fairly involved plot I am at this moment entertaining in my mind. I just wanted to get that cleared away, so please don't be disappointed when I don't write some specific scene you like, because I think rewriting J.'s work with one extra character isn't very interesting.

I realize that some of my readers aren't familiar with the HP world, so here's some filler for you: Harry and Ron are mad at each other because Harry got into the Tournament and Ron didn't. Ron feels betrayed and lied to because he thinks Harry didn't want the extra fame, whereas Ron does. I wanted to make that clear, because I didn't go into that in these chapters, and people who haven't read HP wouldn't make that connection.

And finally, no, Gai is not coming to Hogwarts. Gai coming to Hogwarts would be a clear breach of security that would lead Kakashi's enemies right to him. However, there will be letters from Gai every few chapters. Sorry to disappoint, but I never intended for Gai to visit. He's much too high-maintenance and his presence would probably cause poor Kakashi's fragile brain to explode; and we must protect Kakashi from this dire possibility.

Another thing that I think caused confusion: Kakashi is not representing Hogwarts in the Tournament. Neither is he representing Konoha (at least overtly) because that would be a huge security risk. He is representing the small (and imaginary) Japanese village of Kyoko, as stated in chapter 4 or something, and Dumbledore's rationale regarding his entry was that if he could get his name past the ageline as an underage individual, he would be fit to participate in the Tournament.

I apologize for this long-winded authors' note. But! Here is the chapter.

* * *

It must have seemed inconceivable to Harry that the world would still be turning a week later. And yet it was, as steadily as ever, bringing with it a front of cold weather that seemed to validate Harry's sorrow. The majority of Hogwarts passed the weekend in Hogsmeade, but Kakashi stayed behind, eager for the chance to let his chakra replenish. He didn't expect that Harry would linger in the castle as well.

He was lounging in the empty common room when Kakashi descended from the dormitories, and he was blocked from view by the high-backed chair in which he sat. The shinobi was about to seat himself next to the fire when he noticed the other boy. He hesitated for a moment before sitting resolutely.

Harry neither moved nor spoke, and Kakashi wondered if he had even noticed his entrance.

"Why aren't you at Hogsmeade?" He asked, finally, to the other Gryffindor.

Harry didn't look up, "No reason to go."

Kakashi nodded. Those were grounds enough for him. The crackling of the fire filled up the renewed silence.

When Harry spoke again, his voice was strained. "Hatake," he took a breath, "I didn't put my name in that Cup."

Kakashi looked at him sidelong, and he had nothing to say.

"I swear I didn't. And I want to know who did." The grief in Harry's voice had turned to anger, "Ron thinks we did it together. You and me."

"That's understandable." Kakashi calmly conceded.

An ugly look crossed Harry's face, as though he were about to explode. But the moment passed and tiredness filled up its absence in his expression. "I didn't want any of this. Ever. Tell me, Hatake. Was it you?"

Kakashi looked up. And for perhaps the first time, their eyes met without a trace of contempt in either pair. Kakashi hadn't really appreciated before how startlingly green those eyes were. "I didn't put your name in."

Harry nodded, and the moment passed almost gratefully. If Kakashi had laughed the question off or given him that infuriating smirk, he would have been hard pressed not to pull his wand on him there and then. But Kakashi hadn't done either of those things, and somehow Harry found himself believing him. "I don't suppose you know who did it?"

"No. Mad-Eye Moody was guarding the Goblet all night long. I don't know who could've gotten past him."

"You did," Harry pointed out.

Kakashi smiled thinly. "So I did."

There was a sustained pause, although it was not entirely uncomfortable. There was a nagging question on Kakashi's tongue: _How did you know about my clones?_ But he didn't ask that question. It would just confirm that Harry's suspicions were true and draw undue attention to the matter. So he let it drop.

Several minutes passed imperceptibly, and the two sat together in something perhaps less than camaraderie, but with a certain tolerance of each other's company. Each young man was consumed by his own thoughts, which swept down upon them to pluck them from the here and now.

Kakashi was the first one to return to reality, and he stood to leave. He was already standing when something struck him and he fought a brief battle with himself. "Potter," he muttered eventually, "It's not too late, you know, to get your friends back. But be careful, because when you wake up tomorrow morning they might not be there."

A thin remainder of his recent scorn crossed Harry's face. "You don't understand, Hatake, it's not that easy. I can't just…pick up all the pieces like nothing happened. Maybe you can but—well, Ron's the closest thing to family I've ever had."

Kakashi just smiled, and turned away.

* * *

"Where's that Hermione gone off to?" George asked carelessly. The three Weasley siblings walked companionably together down Hogsmeade village's main venue.

"She's run off to talk to Ginny and her little friends," was Ron's miserable reply. "Says she's fed up with the both of us." His cheeks were blotchy with cold, and his nose had turned a bright red to rival the color of his token Weasley family hair.

Fred clapped his mittened hands briskly together. "Brilliant, brilliant. She wouldn't approve of this sort of business anyway, Ronniekins. But don't you worry! This'll cheer you up right away."

Ron made a face. "_Where_ are we going, again?"

"We're going to meet a supplier," George grinned.

Fred's countenance was more serious, "Do try not to embarrass us this time."

Ron's face darkened. "I didn't embarrass anybody!"

"Tell that to Mrs. Perkins' cat, next time you see her." Stifling their grins, the twins mournfully shook their heads in unison. Ron just sulked and muttered something inaudible.

"The point is, Ronniekins," George said, suddenly resolute, "We have a business to run, and we simply can't have you tarnishing our fine reputation any more than you already have."

"Then why in bloody hell did you bring me over here?" Ron demanded indignantly, and he pulled his hat farther down over his reddening ears.

Fred looked to George, and scratched his head in feigned perplexity. "Why _did_ we bring him along, George?"

The teen's twin looked mystified. "I haven't the slightest. Something about Mum's gnome problem, I think," They were nearing the grisly sign above the Hog's Head Tavern.

"No, that was last Hogsmeade; remember, he knocked over that pile of pickled turnips,"

Ron's ears turned redder. "You brought me here because my best friend Harry Potter is being a prick, that's why! Bloody hell."

Mock-comprehension dawned on the twins' faces. "Right! That's it, of course. We were going to bring you out of your sulk, Ronniekins."

"And a fine job we're doing, aren't we, twin-o'-mine?"

"A fine job indeed, old boy." Fred ignored Ron's groan and pushed the door open. "C'mon, Ronnie. Where's that stiff upper lip?"

They stepped out of the cold street and into the dense atmosphere of the pub. Smoke hung suspended on the sparse rays of sunlight allowed to creep through the window curtains, and the sharp smell of alcohol seemed to cling to the air. George took a deep, theatrical breath. "Smell that, Ronald? That is the smell of profit."

"I hate this place," Ron murmured, glancing nervously at the old bartender behind the counter.

Fred ruffled his younger brother's hair disruptively, "Then I can't say I think very highly of your taste, Ronniekins. This is a wonderful establishment."

"If the ole' barkeep knew how much profit we've made in that booth over there, he'd charge us just to breathe near it."

"Which is why we're putting _you_ over _there_," they pointed to a booth on the other side of the smoggy room. "Can't have you racking up extra fees."

"Or telling Mum about all this," Fred added under his breath.

"I'm not sitting there!" Ron recoiled. There was an unfriendly-looking old woman in the booth next to it—Ron assumed it was a woman—and her tangled gray hair lay in prickly bunches over the back of her chair, spilling over into Ron's allotted booth.

"Oh come on, old boy, be a man. Thought we'd introduce you to a real woman or two." George cackled, even as he and Fred steered their brother towards the bar and left him there. A man with bright purple robes had suddenly appeared in the twins' "profit booth."

Ron sighed and surveyed the bar. There were four unoccupied seats, but only one without something sharp, wet, or crimson on the seat. So he chose that one, directly next to a hooded man sitting at the end.

"I'll have a pumpkin juice," Ron said dejectedly to the bartender, as he spun idly on the rotating chair. The beverage that slid to him along the greased surface neither looked nor smelled like pumpkin juice, so Ron didn't touch it. Besides, there was what looked to be cherry lipstick on the rim of his glass.

"Oi," a gruff voice sounded from Ron's right. "You gonna drink that?"

Ron shook his head mutely and moved his hand to push the drink at his neighboring patron, but the man snatched it up before Ron's hand even grazed the handle. He would've missed it if he had blinked. "Um," he swallowed. "Right, then."

The figure to his right was tall and lean, and heavily draped in cloaks of dark colors. His face was impenetrable behind the folds of his hood and the smoke wafting languidly by. There was a slurping sound from behind the hood as the main drained the glass in one attempt. He emitted a satisfied groan, and let the cup fall back to the table with a clunk.

"What's your name, boy?" the stranger asked, even as he produced a bottle of butterbeer from inside one of his many pockets.

"Um…" he tried hard to invent a pseudonym, but in the end all he could think of was 'Harry.'

The man barked a laugh at Ron's hesitance. "S'alright, boy. No need to say if you don't want me to know." The man's accent was subtle, and Ron couldn't quite place his finger on its origin. It was the accent of a man who had tried to imitate the sounds of a foreign place for years of his life, but had never quite achieved it flawlessly. He brought the butterbeer to his lips and drained half of it.

Then the stranger was reaching into his cloak again, and produced from it this time a battered leather flask. He unscrewed the cap and poured some of the liquid into the butterbeer bottle, and then he reached for the scarlet red bottle of Fire Whiskey at his elbow, adding a third of its contents to the mix.

"That's Madame Rosmerta's butterbeer," Ron noted, recognizing the bottle, "From The Three Broomsticks."

"Shh!" The man shushed him, glancing furtively at the occupied bartender. "Shut it, boy! Aberforth doesn't like me bringing in goods from rival pubs, and I've already been kicked out of one tavern in this village. Madame Rosmerta won't let me in anymore."

Ron blinked, and thought it was no wonder, with all the rubbish he was putting in her prized beverage. "Then how did you get that butterbeer?"

The stranger turned a bit, allowing Ron to catch an outline of his weathered, slightly flushed countenance. He grinned, and winked slyly. "I've got my ways, lad." He took a sip of his concoction, with his head thrown far back. "There are always ways."

The bottle thumped back to the counter again, clutched in the stranger's fist. He let out a deep, contented sigh.

Ron made a face, letting his curiosity get the better of him. "What'd you put in there?"

The cloaked man held his creation up to Ron, "What, this? This, my boy, is the finest beverage this man has ever tasted. The rich warmth of Rosmerta's butterbeer, the strength and vigor of Aberforth's Fire Whiskey, and this," he held up his leather flask, "The finest sake a man can get his hands on in the western hemisphere." He took another long swig of his mixture, as if he couldn't stand to wait another moment without tasting it again.

Ron couldn't help but smile. The man was strange, but seemed friendly enough. And Fred and George would be asking for samples of his ultimate beverage by now. "What's sake?" he asked when the bottle clanked to the bar-top again.

"Sake?" The man pounded a fist on the table. "I tell you, boy, if there's one thing I miss in this world, it's sake. If there are gods out there somewhere, I'd reckon it's their only beverage."

"If you miss it so much," Ron said suddenly, "why don't you go back where you can drink it all the time?"

At this, the stranger let out an almost contemptuous snort. He turned again, briefly, and Ron caught a glimpse of his eyes. He had never imagined that eyes could be so hardened and so deep at the same time. "Believe me, boy, I'd love to."

Ron waited as the man finished off his drink in a long, unbroken series of gulps. He seemed a little breathless when he was done.

"I've been here seven years," he said bitterly, "without so much as a single thanks."

"From who?" Somehow, it didn't occur to Ron that his questioning might make the man uncomfortable. Because if it did, he certainly gave no indication.

"My sister, lad. My twin. She can't live without me, you know, and if I had to tell the truth I don't think I could make it very far either. But you know how siblings are," He unscrewed his flask and took a drink.

Ron nodded, eagerly. He could smell the sake now; its raw foreign scent stood out from the miasma of familiar ones.

"So selfish, always running off after things they don't understand." The man continued.

Ron thought of Percy, and found himself bobbing his head knowingly.

"She follows him and I follow her, and round and round we go." Suddenly he looked sullen, his knuckles white against the flask.

Ron stuttered out an apology, which the cloaked man swatted away impatiently.

"Don't do that, boy. I hate apologies. They're the token of weak and indecisive minds." Ron narrowly repressed the instinctive, second apology that rose to his lips as the man continued, "I keep myself amused. That Triwizard Tournament, for instance, going on up at your school. I think I'm long overdue for some good entertainment."

"The Triwizard Tournament?" At this, Ron's good mood collapsed like a card house built on a table with one leg. "I hate that competition. It's the stupidest thing Dumbledore's ever done at Hogwarts."

The man looked at him curiously, his head cocked to one side. "That's a remarkably strong conviction you've got there," he said. "Why's that, boy?"

Ron huffed, arms crossed across his chest. "What is this, an interrogation?"

At this, the man let out a roar of laughter, so loud that patrons on the other side of the bar turned their heads. Ron watched the cloaked stranger's bout of hysteria, growing increasingly alarmed. Suddenly he didn't seem so friendly.

He calmed a few seconds later and wiped a few tears from his eyes, shaking his head. "It must be terribly liberating, lad, to be able to throw that word around so freely. But someday you'll know better."

Ron made a pained face, "Are you an Auror?"

The stranger seemed to consider this. "No, I don't think so, lad. I don't think even I can put a name to my line of work anymore."

The red-haired teen nodded uneasily. He wanted to leave, but Fred and George were still conversing with their "supplier" at their booth. Ron managed to make eye contact with George, shooting his brother a meaningful look, and George mouthed, _Stay there,_ and then, _Profits!_

When Ron turned around again, the stranger had a _Daily Prophet_ before him, and staring at Ron from the front page was a huge picture of Rita Skeeter's "Charismatic Quintet," with Harry Potter as the centerpiece.

"Put that rubbish away," Ron snapped, "I don't want to look at it."

The hooded man didn't seem to hear him, or he didn't care. "Funny how they call it a Triwizard Tournament, and there are five of them. Why is that, boy?"

"Because that one cheated his way in," he pointed to Kakashi, "and _that_ one is a traitorous bastard." He jabbed his thumb at Harry. He felt a little thrill of guilt as the words left his mouth.

"Ah." The stranger sounded amused.

Ron's eyes disloyally returned to the picture, where he looked at Harry's uneasy visage for awhile, until his attention was drawn to the image of Kakashi. He looked different: his hair was dark brown rather than silver, and his mask was gone, and his facial features were broader than they should have been. The caption at the bottom named him as Kakashi Satou.

Ron frowned. He was about to tell the stranger that Kakashi's name was Hatake and that he didn't look like that, but then he remembered a conversation that he and Harry had shared a few weeks ago. Harry had said, "_Ron, there's someone after him. This wizard fellow from Japan…"_

A disturbing thought occurred to Ron. "Sir, you're not from Japan, are you?"

"Hmm?" the man looked up. "Nah. I've only been there twice, actually. Couldn't stand their food; there was too much fish." He went back to the column he was reading.

"Oh." Ron was satisfied. He mulled over that conversation with increasing bitterness, remembering what Harry had said next: "_Kakashi told me himself, a few days ago." _How long had they been scheming together behind Ron's back?

By the time Fred and George were done, he was more than ready to leave.

* * *

Kakashi was sleeping when the letter came. It was a light, restless sleep that kept him trapped and made his head ache with dim apparitions of dreams and the restless desire to open his eyes, even though he could not. He heard the rapping of talons against glass without waking, and Obito was mocking him and the words coming from his mouth were nonsense that turned to the sharp tapping that infuriated Kakashi all the more.

A particularly loud rap jolted Kakashi from his stupor. He wrenched his eyes open at last and his hand leapt to the spot where his kunai holster would have been on his thigh. He panicked for a split second when the holster wasn't there, and then he remembered where he was.

The owl scrabbled impatiently against the window. Red-eyed, the young shinobi went to the window and took the small, twine-wrapped package from the bird. He went back to the warmth of his chair—he had fallen asleep in the empty common room, apparently—and bounced the package in his hands. He could tell from the size and weight what was in it—it was a pair of kunai, and Kakashi knew what that meant.

Dread filled up his stomach.

He tore through the brown rice paper and let the kunai fall into his hands. They were old and battered—the kunai of a veteran. On the worn leather handle, Kakashi read the kanji symbol for "steam" engraved into the base. The dread in his stomach collapsed into a sickening thrill of guilt.

He fished the acid green letter out from the package and opened it up with fingers that trembled ever so slightly—surely only because of the evening cold—and began to read.

_My Eternal Rival, _Gai wrote:

_GAH! I don't know where you learned to be so hip and cool, not writing back to me. It's been weeks since I wrote last! Sometimes you're so infuriating…I shouldn't let you get to me so easily! As soon as I finish writing, I will do three hundred push-ups to strengthen the Aura of my Ninja Way! _

_Our fair and beautiful Village is blossoming in the vibrance of springtime. I did miss the smell of sweet sakura blossoms in the air—it has been a long Winter, but the youthfulness of the Soul is made stronger by it, Rival! The streets have come alive again, and the paths fill up with sweet-smelling petals that scatter as I and my dear Sensei make our laps through this youthful city. My Poor Rival, your Fountain of Spirit must be suffering there, so I have included a souvenir of our Springtime in this letter._

Kakashi frowned. He shook the crumbled parchment until a single, carefully dried sakura flower fell out. It lay innocently in his lap, its pale pink hue contrasting against Kakashi's black robes, and he blinked.

_Our Wise Leader, the 1__st__ Kage, once said that Nature never takes a cruel appearance, my Rival, but that She takes the appearance that Her observers ascribe to Her. I believe, my most Worthy Adversary, that in your current state of mind you would find it ironic to hear how the sakura trees blossom while our Village cringes and bleeds. I hope that someday you will come to share my Superior outlook. _

_I am told that you will recognize those kunai. I can't write his name in this letter—in case it is intercepted by our Foes, my Rival—but I have heard that he was your comrade. Our Generous Leader gave me permission to tell you myself: he died Honorably. He was on a mission across the border and was killed by a group of spies. He was missing for two weeks before the Recovery team found his body three days ago. His name will be one the Memorial Stone._

_I am sorry._

_Please write to me. Our friends have been asking about you—yes, they are your friends, whether you admit it or not—I hope you don't mind, but I might have accidently told some of them how to find you. Ha! You can't possibly ignore all our letters! Please don't do anything reckless. Our Leader is worried about you._

_Sincerely, your Eternal Rival_

Kakashi placed the letter carefully on the armrest and picked up the kunai. He gazed at the kanji—steam jutsu had been the owner's specialty. His name was Matsuura Yashiro, and Kakashi had met him in ANBU just over six months ago. They were put on a mission together to infiltrate a Mist outpost and identify, track, and cut off their supplier. They had ended up captured and on a Kiri prison transport ship.

Yashiro had promised Kakashi that if they got out of it alive, he would buy them a bottle of the most expensive sake in Konoha and they would share it over a bowl of ramen apiece.

They escaped the next day, and they shared the sake and the ramen, and then they never really spoke again. There was the occasional nod, the understanding glance, the silent acknowledgment that they had both been through something terrible together and survived.

And now Yashiro was dead, and Kakashi was halfway around the world, and somehow, all he could feel was guilt. No sadness or grief, not even surprise, just guilt.

* * *

A/N End of chapitre dix-sept.

Yes, I know it's late fall in Hogwarts and early spring in Konoha. No one knows exactly where Hogwarts is (or Konoha either), so I'm assuming that they're approximately halfway around the world from each other. Yay. Please review! (They make me happy inside!)


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: A Languished Symbol**

I would like to extend an enormous thanks to my faithful reviewers, consistent readers, and very helpful beta reader Arashinobara.

I think I went a bit overboard on the pseudo-symbolism this chapter. Ah well…This is what AP English Lang does to you. HORRIBLE THINGS. I feel like it's pretty much destroyed my ability to read or write anything for fun. Bah.

Also, it has come to my attention that there are similarities between my fic and others (I chanced upon a discussion with my name in it on a review page for another story, and I was all like, dats chill). I know I was not at fault in this instance, nor was the other person, but if people ever come to notice tangents between this fic and others, I would appreciate it if you would notify me so that I might attempt to keep this fic as original and non-cliché as possible. Thanks.

Also, I apologize in advance for the wait for the next chapter. My days are pretty much booked for the next few weeks.

* * *

Kakashi's quill made circles above the blank parchment paper, a fat drop of black ink hanging precariously from the end. He let out a faint sigh and brushed the quill against the inside of his ink bottle, allowing the drop to slide down the murky glass and melt seamlessly into the dark pool of ink. He put the quill to the parchment at last, letting it linger in one place until the black began to form a growing circle as it seeped into the surface of the parchment. 

_Dear "rival," _he wrote, reluctantly and without conviction:

_You should know better than to endanger my position by writing. You're a chuunin; I would think you would've caught on by now. As for these "friends" you've recruited in this ridiculous plea for my attention, tell them that they are endangering this mission and that they are all vulnerable to demotion or forced leave as a consequence of their foolishness, and of yours._

He paused at the end of his paragraph and set the quill in the ink bottle. He clenched his hands around his robes—they were shaking slightly and he didn't know why. His eyes wandered back to read the previous paragraph, and his mouth formed a grim line. He hurt him a bit to read the words as Gai would no doubt read them in a few days…but he had no choice. It was for Gai's own good—better to distance himself before someone got too attached.

Grudgingly, he lifted the quill and put it back down to the parchment, steadying his hand against the table:

_It's not so bad here. The weather is cold, but I like it that way. As for the one who died—I didn't know him well. He was just a colleague; besides, one dead man in this war is no huge loss. _

He searched around somewhat desperately for something else to write about. His eyes flicked from corner to corner of the common room—he could see everything from his remote table. There were a few pairs of students silently mingling or grouching through last-minute homework. He could see the Granger girl and Weasley's sister sitting together over a pile of books.

_The people here are very different from us. They have strange ideas about life and death. I'm not sure whether or not their views are valid, but I think not. They call themselves pacifists, yet their history is nearly as bloody as ours, and they hold sporting events glorifying their own capacity for harm; for no other reason than to revel in their own power. It is a strange culture…but the food is good._

He paused, his mind suddenly exhausted of material. He became aware of a lump against his leg; it was the sakura flower in his pocket. He pulled it out and let it sit in his hand, withered and forlorn. Gai had pressed it for preservation, but it had become wrinkled in Kakashi's pocket and faded since it had arrived in the mail.

_Your sakura flower died. It's alright; there are other plants here. _

He blinked at this line—other plants? What in the name of kami did he mean by that? He shook his head and continued.

_Anyway, it doesn't matter. So far I haven't been doing much here. Frankly, I'm rather bored. I can't even train in peace. Don't write to me again, I won't reply if you do. And tell all your friends not to write either. I'm not interested in hearing from any of you._

He paused for a moment, quill hovering over the parchment, wondering whether or not to add some sort of apology or thanks. Almost angrily, he put the quill in the ink bottle and folded the letter into an envelope, which he sealed with a wax print. He put the letter in his pocket and refused to let himself think about it for the rest of the night.

He was about to go to bed when he saw Granger and the Weasley girl rising and going towards the staircase. Instead they stopped beside Kakashi's table. Ginny was looking at Kakashi's sakura flower while Hermione tried to balance her numerous books in her arms.

"Is that a flower? How did you find it in this weather?"

Kakashi's eyes narrowed unpleasantly, but Ginny seemed undeterred.

"It's so pretty! But what did you do to it?" she snatched it up from Kakashi and turned it over in her hands, startling him enough with this gesture that he had no time to react. "Aren't there spells for this sort of thing?" she asked, showing the crumpled specimen to Hermione, who peered at it over her stack of books.

"That's a sakura flower," she said with removed interest. "From Japan, Kakashi?"

Kakashi held out his hand for the crumpled flower, fixing a fearsome scowl on his face.

But Ginny seemed unwilling to relinquish it, and before Kakashi could bat an eye she had her wand pointed at it. "What was that spell…?" She tapped her chin with her wand impatiently.

"Give it back," protested the shinobi.

"We're fixing it for you," Hermione said, shooing Kakashi's outstretched hand away. "It's _herbovenerate, _I think, with a counterclockwise wave,"

Ginny agreed, and Kakashi watched in surprise, and—for some reason, horror—as a rich color returned to the sakura and its petals seemed to flood with some invisible life at a single wave of the witch's wand.

Ginny Weasley pocketed her wand. "Oh, it looks much better now," she dropped the flower into Kakashi's still-outstretched hand and smiled at him, apparently oblivious to his astonishment. Then the two girls left for their dormitory, chatting to each other about Victor Krum and what absolute pricks their two warring friends were.

"I don't want it now," he said too late. Kakashi could feel the small weight of the flower against his hand. He looked at the thing for a moment, then slipped it into one pocket and the letter into another, and he put his head down on the table.

* * *

Kakashi's head was already swimming by the time he reached the entrance to the Owlery tower. The smell of the droppings of hundreds of animals seemed to seep into his mask and envelop all his senses. With a gloved hand over his nose, he pushed the heavy door open and stumbled into the tower, at which point the musky scent became several times worse. Kakashi cursed the absurd sensitivity of his nose. 

He looked around blindly for a flying something to tie his letter to, but every time he moved towards an owl, it would move tauntingly away. Finally he simply reached out and snatched a traumatized owl mid-flight and waved his letter in its face, waiting for it to accept the envelope.

The animal blinked furiously at him, its beak opening and closing as it gasped for air, its talons scrabbling uselessly against Kakashi's bare skin and opening shallow cuts in his arms.

"That's not how you do it, Hatake!" A blonde-haired Slytherin appeared out of nowhere, an insulted-looking Eagle Owl perched on his arm. Kakashi's ruffled captive took this moment of distraction to free itself from Kakashi's clutches.

The Slytherin looked at him disdainfully. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm mailing a letter," Kakashi said, watching his capture fly into the upper rafters with annoyance. "You just made me lose my owl."

The boy sneered. "Well. Next time, make sure you stay away from my owl." He stroked his owl's feathers as he slipped his own small package into a pouch tied to the animal's leg, and his arm jerked as the Eagle owl took flight into the gray sky. "Kakashi Hatake, right?" he held his hand out for Kakashi to shake.

Kakashi ignored the gesture.

The boy seemed undeterred by this, even amused. "Draco Malfoy."

"Mm. Yes, I believe we've met." Kakashi looked around for another owl, attempting to convey his distaste for the whole prospect of conversing with him.

Malfoy watched his efforts with amusement. "You haven't done this before, have you? Here." He let out a low whistle, and extended his arm for an approaching tawny owl to alight upon. "Now put your letter in that pouch there." Kakashi did. The owl and Malfoy blinked at him.

"What?"

"You have to tell him where he's taking it, first," Malfoy said slowly, as if speaking to an idiot.

Kakashi frowned in annoyance. He wasn't about to tell Draco Malfoy where his village was. "Just go where the rest of my letters have been coming from," he told the owl vaguely and feeling intensely uncomfortable at the whole absurd situation. The owl seemed to give him an exasperated look. "Go ask Dumbledore's owls. They'll know." At this, comprehension dawned upon the animal, and it leapt off Malfoy's arm and out the nearest window.

Malfoy brushed invisible dust from the spot where the owl had been. "There. Not so bad, eh? So how do they send letters in Japan, if not by owls?"

"Oh, we use dwarves," Kakashi answered with a roll of his eyes as he turned away. "You know…just tie a carrot to a stick and strap it to their heads and they'll go for miles,"

Malfoy laughed delightedly, seeming not to notice Kakashi's sarcasm. "Excellent! Maybe you Asian wizards aren't so bad after all. Why'd they put you in Gryffindor, anyway? You seem more like the Slytherin brand to me."

"It's all a conspiracy, Draco-san," Kakashi said tiredly. It was starting to rain outside, and filthy water was beginning to sprinkle down from the rafters. "I need to go."

"Of course," The Slytherin said, looking disgusted as a fat drop of water landed on his cheek. "Professor Snape wants me in his office in a few minutes, anyway; he's paying me to organize his poison shelves. I'm the only one he trusts for the job," he pulled his handsome winter cloak tighter around his shoulders and brushed past Kakashi towards the door.

"Oh Hatake," he called back, "Good luck with the Triwizard Tournament. You will beat Potter's ass, won't you?"

Kakashi smiled thinly. "I'll do my best."

"Good. Here, take this. Join the cause." He pulled something small and shiny out of his bag and tossed it. Kakashi snatched it out of the air almost mechanically. With that, Malfoy was striding through the thickening rain down the Owlery steps, muttering epithets to Potter's idiocy.

Kakashi let out a breath as soon as he had gone. He opened his hand and looked at the badge, bearing in luminous red letters the words, "Support Cedric Diggory, the real Hogwarts champion!" He frowned at the badge as its message changed to "Potter Stinks!" Kakashi rolled his eyes and slipped the badge into his pocket. Although he didn't know the Malfoy boy well, he had seen enough of him in classes and around the school to form his own opinions about him, most of which were less than flattering. As for Malfoy's apparent rivalry with Potter, that was something he wasn't about to get involved with.

Kakashi firmly put the issues of his peers out of his head and stepped out into the spitting rain. He pulled open his mask a bit to let the smell of owl droppings air out, replacing it with the impersonal scent of a cold rainstorm. He glanced upward to the large clock-tower, which gave the time as 5:30 in the afternoon. Kakashi knew that there was to be some sort of Tournament meeting in half an hour, but he could feel the blight of inactivity stiffening in his limbs—it had been nearly three days since he had been outside to train. Besides, he didn't like meetings, especially useless ones. Tucking his bag underneath his cloak, the young shinobi headed towards the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

An hour and a half later found an exhausted Kakashi draped over a broad tree branch, both arms hanging limply over either side of it. He was just barely hanging onto his broomstick with one finger. 

It was, in fact, the broomstick that had taken him here—it had brought him on a long and terrifying flight after Kakashi, in the triumph of becoming airborne, had belatedly realized that he didn't know how to steer. He looked around him and eyed the path of soggy destruction he had left, and couldn't help but grin. Despite the substantial pattern of bruises and scrapes blooming over his body at that very moment, flying that broomstick had been one of the most exhilarating things he had done since the days before Yondaime's death.

Now he could feel the blood throbbing in his fingertips, and he couldn't quite feel his toes, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He listened to the rain falling around him in the evening dusk, and as he looked below him he could see the raindrops forming long strands of motion that seemed to curve towards a central point, until they disappeared in the darkness or melted together and out of sight.

All around him was the smell of wet leaves and the callous, uncompromising renewal that rain always seemed to bring. Kakashi pondered for a moment over the realization that the rain was just the same here as it had always been halfway around the world, in Konoha. For a moment, Kakashi was able to feel a part of the world around him as though he had never left it.

Then he heard the heavy fall of footsteps over the rain's patter. Frowning, the shinobi pulled the broomstick up and pushed himself onto his elbows, and watched for the source of this intrusion. Presently, it appeared: it was a very soggy Mad-Eye Moody, clutching a ragged umbrella in one meaty hand and his hip flask in the other. He was scowling and muttering to himself, but Kakashi couldn't make out the words.

"Hatake!" He bellowed suddenly, and fished out his wand from inside his robes. "_Lumos_—dammit Hatake!" Kakashi squinted as a sudden, blinding light lit up the area. He held up his hand to shield his eyes, and the next thing he knew, some invisible force had pushed him from his tree branch and seemed to be pulling him through the branches and to the ground.

Then he hit the ground, perhaps a bit harder than he would've liked, and Moody was leaning over him looking less than amused. "Dammit, boy, they waited a bloody hour for you! What in the name of Merlin are you doing out here?"

Kakashi pointed to the broomstick a few feet away. "I can fly now," he added, "sort of."

"I don't give half a skrewt about how good a flier you are," the ex-auror reached down and pulled Kakashi to his feet, and steadied him there as the shinobi teetered. He thrust the umbrella into his hands. "Come on, lad, we'd best be getting back to the castle."

Kakashi let the professor pull him along by the hand while he regained his bearings, the umbrella dipping dangerously back and forth.

Moody was grumbling.

"We wouldn't be having this problem if you'd done like I'd told you and not entered this bloody contest," he said.

"McGonagall said someone will be sent after me whenever I'm out of bounds after hours, not just when I have meetings to be at. So I don't see how my participating in the Tournament has anything to do with it. And why do you care?"

"This is a dangerous competition, Hatake." Moody barked, "Someone could get hurt. And I'll have you know that I have indeed been sent after you numerous times, I just never bothered with coming to fetch you. I'm not too keen on playing babysitter, actually,"

"Of course not," Kakashi said almost sympathetically, thinking back to the recent days that he himself had been forced to look after the Yondaime's son. That child was a hell raiser…and rather painful to look at, as the spitting image of his father.

He was enjoying a melancholy trip down memory lane when Moody stopped abruptly and looked off to their right. "You go on ahead, boy," he said, "I've got something to tend to. Minerva will be waiting for you up at the castle." He took a step away, then stopped. He summoned an umbrella out of thin air. "Take this, so she'll be less likely to yell at me." The teen took the umbrella as Moody snatched his own back from Kakashi's lax grip. He strode off into the soggy darkness.

"And I'll know if you stray off, lad! Straight back to the castle!"

"I know," Kakashi deadpanned after him, and he rolled his eyes tiredly. He considered heading back into the forest just for the sake of being difficult, but thought better of it. He had a good idea of what exactly McGonagall would have in store for him upon his return, and didn't think too kindly of adding to her wrath.

Kakashi could make out McGonagall framed in the light from a castle side door the moment he rounded the last series of hills. And although he couldn't see the expression on her face, her posture suggested that she was not at all amused.

The young shinobi let his mind sink into a well-practiced state of complete and utter disregard. Back in Konoha, all ANBU members were trained in this technique as part of their torture-resistance preparation. It appeared that the training was about to pay off, once again—although perhaps this particular instance wasn't quite as critical serious as the previous occurrences.

"Mr. Hatake!" McGonagall's voice didn't quite register inside Kakashi's consciousness, but his subconscious heard it, and followed it autonomously. "What, in the name of Merlin, are we going to do with you?"

The shinobi noticed blankly that Madame Pomfrey was standing at McGonagall's elbow, wearing an expression to complement the Transfiguration teacher's wrath.

"Where has that Moody gone off to?" the professor raged, squinting out into the darkness of the forest as her bony hand clamped down upon Kakashi's shoulder and steered him into the castle's light and warmth. "Look at you! Soaked to the bone! Poppy, get him cleaned up, will you—dear Merlin, where is that infuriating man?"

Madame Pomfrey bustled the teen into a chair and clucked disapprovingly at his various wounds. "Mr. Hatake, what are we going to do with you—look at this bruise! How did this happen? Honestly, you are the most difficult student in this school, after those blasted Weasley twins—come dear, have a Pepper Up potion, it'll make you feel better—oh just swallow it, boy, it's not going to poison you!"

Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind her. Her fury descended upon the little side room like a dark cloud over the sun. "Cornelius Fudge, Hatake! You left the Minister of Magic waiting! Honestly, all the press this is going to get us—Poppy, don't bother with making him better, just get him looking presentable for the photographs."

Kakashi sneezed inopportunely, earning him Poppy Pomfrey's glare.

Three minutes later, Kakashi's hair was magically combed (and none the better off for it) and his clothes were straightened out and dried. Professor McGonagall burst into the Tournament chamber with Kakashi by the ear just as Cornelius Fudge and other official-looking people were putting on their coats.

"Ah! And here's the last one now." The Minister said, smiling charmingly. He strode to Kakashi and took his hand in both of his own, shaking it briskly. "Well, I'm very sorry to leave prematurely, but I must be going now. It was an honor meeting all of you, and good luck!" Cornelius Fudge pushed past the protesting Transfiguration professor with a brief chain of lesser diplomats following after him.

As if on cue, Rita Skeeter pounced upon Kakashi. "And here he is, the final champion! Goodness, a tad bit late, aren't we? Come on, dear, we'd best get you in the photograph—yes, I know, dear, I wanted to be reasonable and take one without you, but Albus insisted."

Kakashi was huddled into the harried little group of champions, each wearing an identical expression of tired frustration.

Reeta Skeeter winced at them. "Oh come now, you all look like a pack of drowned Trufflie Pinks. Chin up, Harry—Mr. Krum, please move a tad bit to the right, you're throwing off Harry's light. There now—smile!" By some grace of god, all five teenagers were able to pull pleasant smiles over their petulance for the split-second camera flash.

Reeta Skeeter beamed. "Charming, splendid! What a charismatic group!" Their smiles instantaneously collapsed, and prim postures slackened.

"Alright, everyone," McGonagall said shrilly, "All the champions who have had their wands weighed may leave—" there was a mass exodus towards the door.

The reporter waved her acid-green quill after them, biting the end of her horn-rimmed glasses agitatedly, "Ah, Harry! Mr. Potter, if you please, I'd like to get a few more words from you—!" Kakashi watched Harry shoot Professor McGonagall a despairing look, who shrugged at him.

Harry was whisked off to a broom closet, and Kakashi was pulled over to a table. It took him a moment to realize that the man sitting at it was Mr. Ollivander.

The old man smiled at him. "Rather late, aren't we, Mr. Hatake?"

Kakashi shrugged. "Sorry…I got lost. On the road of—"

Ollivander waved at him impatiently. "Yes, yes, of course. Let's see your wand, then."

Kakashi blinked.

The wand-seller seemed to falter. "Your wand, Mr. Hatake? Thirteen and a quarter inches long, ebony, dragon heartstring?"

The shinobi held out his empty hands. "I, uh—I don't have it with me,"

McGonagall's voice sounded from the door, "Oh Merlin's beard."

Ollivander blinked, genuinely stymied. "You…don't have it with you? Why ever not?"

"Well, it's not like I'm expected to carry it around with me wherever I…" Kakashi trailed off as it dawned upon him that he was indeed expected to do just that. He sighed. "I'll go get it."

* * *

A/N End. 

I'm terribly sorry if I've offended any dwarves out there. (


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19: The Fireplace Head**

I am so, so sorry for the delay! Things kept coming up, including a brief but intense visit from my drawing muse. It was kinda taking up a lot of time. At this point, I write from the middle of this super ghetto hotel in a not-so-good part of Queens, NYC, which is amazing and terrifying at the same time. Very inspiring...for things other than this fic. Just be thankful I didn't get myself shot, eh? Anyway, I would like for my readers to expect long delays to come up at some points, simply because real life and internet life don't mix all that well. Be assured that if I ever decided that I no longer wished to write this story or was going to put it on hiatus, you would all be duly notified. I don't like to leave people hanging like that.

Ooh! And I met a bunch of British kids in NY and they have the most awesome accents ever and I love them and they inspired me to write Potter-ish things. Yay!

Review! It will chase the demons of drawing muse away!

* * *

Harry Potter was scowling. Rita Skeeter's official Tournament article had come out in the post that morning, and Harry was holding the partially-incinerated article in clenched fists as Hermione tried to console him. Meanwhile, Colin Creevy buzzed happily around the both of them, delightedly cursing the reporter's name as if he had never used such words before and was enormously pleased with himself for learning them.

The portrait door opened just as the clock stuck curfew, and Kakashi stormed in, wand in hand, as though he had been using it to threaten the Fat Lady just seconds before. With eyes at half-mast, he took a look around the common room and the assembled Gryffindors, some of whom wore glinting "Potter Stinks" badges on their chests. "What are you all looking at?" he challenged hotly. Every eye was quickly averted. A dark cloud seemed to lift from the room once he disappeared into his dormitory.

"What's his problem?" Harry muttered tiredly.

Hermione shook her head. "I heard Filch had him cleaning portraits on the seventh floor for detention. Apparently Sir Cadogan was giving him trouble."

"He only just finished?" Harry wondered absently. "I saw him cleaning The Seven Minstrels' portraits at breakfast…Peeves was throwing blueberry tarts at him."

Hermione smiled weakly, waiting tentatively for her friend to do the same. He didn't. "Oh Harry, can't you just _try_ to smile once in awhile?"

"What exactly have I got to be smiling about, Hermione?" Harry retorted, rather louder than he had intended. A few students at neighboring armchairs were throwing spiteful glances at him, so he adjusted his volume, "My best friend hates my guts, I've been drafted into a death trap Tournament, the whole Wizarding world thinks that I cry about my parents at night, and—!"

Colin Creevy interrupted them. He had a "Potter Stinks" badge in hand. "Hey Harry! Can I get a picture of you _incendio_-ing this badge—?"

"And," Harry gestured angrily, "I see these bloody badges everywhere I turn. When do I get a break?"

The bushy-haired girl briefly put her face in her hands. "I know, Harry, I know. You've just got to…well, you've just got to hang on for awhile. It'll get better. Besides, you've got one thing to look forward to,"

"Oh, and what's that?"

Hermione lowered her voice conspiratorially, "You get to talk to Sirius tonight."

The raven-haired boy's eyes flickered around the room. "I won't if you announce it to the whole school," he whispered back.

The girl sighed and kneaded her temple with her knuckles. "We'll go down to the library and research more charms tomorrow," she said, "Now get back to that book, Harry; we've only got a week left."

Upstairs, inside their dormitory, Kakashi sat cross-legged inside the dark cave of his drawn four-poster curtains and made a feeble attempt at meditation. He had been serving McGonagall's new detentions for over a week now, and they had planted him firmly in a very bad mood. He could still smell the scent of blueberry tart in his hair.

He had fully intended to escape to the forest to train that night, but McGonagall had employed a new tactic to keep him in his bed: she had planted charms beside the Fat Lady portrait that emitted a high-pitched wailing and immobilized Kakashi whenever he tried to pass them. The second the clock hit curfew, she had explained to him that morning, the charms would be activated. To top it all off, she had employed a handful of idle ghosts to patrol the 7th floor corridor and the grounds outside.

The shinobi wasn't sure how much to be bothered by this. He knew he could get around such flimsy security measures easily, but when he did so, he would no doubt ignite a full-on war between himself and the professor. It would be a silent struggle of authority and magic against strategy and chakra.

Kakashi mentally shrugged. Bring it on.

The silver-haired teen let out a deep breath, finally calm, and settled down into his pillow. His internal clock would wake him sometime in the early morning hours so he could slip out a window. The ghosts would be gone by then, Kakashi knew, because even the dead got bored.

* * *

Kakashi's eyes snapped open at exactly five minutes after 1 AM. He slipped silently out of bed and picked up his kunai holster and cloak from the bedside table drawer. After securing his weapons pouches to his person and wrapping his cloak around his shoulders, he picked up his wand and slipped it into his kunai holster, just in case.

He looked around the circular room cautiously with eyes wide open in the darkness. The room was dead silent except for a muffled slurping sound as Tobi the potted plant devoured some unfortunate rodent. From what Kakashi could see, four of the six beds were occupied—Harry Potter's bed was empty. Kakashi thought little of it; it was none of his concern. He snuck to the nearest window and looked below. There were no silvery ghosts patrolling the grounds, just as Kakashi had known there wouldn't be. He knew from previous escapades that the dormitory windows creaked hideously, so he would have to use one in the common room.

The moment he opened the door to the stairwell, Kakashi discovered to his dissatisfaction that someone was already in the common room. And that someone was talking to—Kakashi strained to get a better look—a disembodied head floating in the fireplace. He raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"I don't know what to do," Harry was saying unhappily.

"I'll tell you what to do," the fireplace head replied, "You keep your head down and your guard up. I'm doing what I can from here, but there's only so much I _can_ do,"

Harry grinned bleakly. "It's a bit difficult to keep a low profile around here…I'm sure you've seen the papers."

The fireplace head snorted. "Don't pay any mind to Skeeter, Harry. I've been reading those articles, and it's quite plain to see they're all rubbish. But there is one thing that worries me…"

"Just one?" Harry quipped weakly.

"This Kakashi Satou," The fireplace head began. Kakashi's ears piqued. He infused chakra into his feet and crawled, spiderlike, across the ceiling for a better vantage point. "Who is he?"

"That's not his real name," Harry said with a wave of his hand.

"Yes. See? He's got something to hide. Where is he from?"

"Japan. Sirius, I don't see what this has to do with—" The fireplace head cut him off.

"Harry, these Eastern wizards are called shinobi, and I met some of them in Azkaban. You-Know-Who had about half a dozen under his command before he fell, maybe more, and I'll tell you one thing; they're a nasty lot."

Harry frowned. "Are you saying you think Kakashi is working for Voldemort?" he paused, visibly uneasy. "I don't think he's—"

The fireplace head gave Harry a pained look. "But you never _know_, do you? The word is that You-Know-Who sent representatives out to the East about fifteen years ago, trying to get their whole nation on his side. No one knows how far he got. You need to be careful around this Satou boy."

Harry shook his head. "He just doesn't seem the type. I dunno, Sirius, he barely speaks to me, or anyone else. I think that if Voldemort was using him he'd…try to get himself more involved. You know?"

Kakashi was rather taken aback at Potter's defense of him. What had he ever done to deserve that?

The floating head gave Harry a stern look. "All I ask is that you be careful around him."

The black-haired teen nodded in resignation.

"And another thing," the head in the fireplace continued, "Karkaroff used to be a Death Eater, Harry, and you know what that means. I don't think he can do much with Alastor Moody keeping an eye on him, but he'll have more latitude outside the school,"

"What do you mean?"

"I've been keeping tabs on suspicious activities around Hogsmeade. There's a giant bird drawing attention to itself in the town, stealing newspapers and Fire Whiskeys. It's either an Animagus or someone's messenger." The head was looking around nervously for eavesdroppers. Kakashi shifted slightly to see it better. Finally, this conversation was getting interesting.

"What makes you think this bird is Karkaroff's?" Harry asked.

"It's a type of hawk that lives only in northern Europe," The head answered.

Kakashi frowned from his place on the ceiling. He didn't know much about the indigenous bird species of northern Europe, but he did know that shinobi summons drew animals of all species and from all areas of the world.

Harry shook his head. "I still don't see what this has got to do with me, Sirius,"

The head nodded in a calming way. "I'm getting to that, Harry. I've been following this hawk with mail owls, and it goes to three places. It comes to Hogsmeade, every once in awhile it comes to Hogwarts, and the rest of the time, it flies towards Albania. Do you know what that means, Harry?"

The boy shook his head.

"Albania is where Voldemort was rumored to be last," the head gave Harry a significant look.

Harry looked horrified. "So you're saying that Voldemort is…" he trailed off.

"I'm not saying anything at this point," said the head in a measured tone, "Just that you need to be careful and be aware that there are people in this school who could be looking to hurt you."

At this point, Kakashi stiffened; his keen ears had picked up the sound of someone stirring in the dormitories. He needed to get out of the firelight.

Harry led out a short laugh, "You don't have to tell me that, Sirius. You know what the first task is!"

He opened his mouth to say more, but at that moment the door to the dormitory opened, and a tousle-haired Ronald Weasley emerged in his too-small pajamas. As Kakashi scuttled out of sight, the floating head in the fireplace disappeared with a small _crack_.

Ron paused for half a second, his hand still on the railing, as he looked directly at the spot Kakashi had been just a fraction of a second before. He blinked and rubbed at the corner of his eye, and turned back towards Harry. He continued coming down the stairs with a spiteful, probing look on his face. Kakashi thought he looked ready for an interrogation…or a fight.

Kakashi didn't feel he wanted to stick around to witness his fight. It rang too similar to so many of the ones he had shared with Obito. He retreated back into the boy's dormitory, loosened a window frame with some precious chakra, and was out the window before the shouting started.

* * *

Harry and Hermione spent the next several days cloistered in the library, reading everything they could find about spells to use on dragons. By the Sunday before the first trial, it was beginning to look very hopeless indeed. Something about the way Victor Krum kept looking at Hermione was beginning to bother her, so she suggested that they move to a different part of the library to avoid him. They did. They were followed. So they moved again.

Eventually they stumbled upon Kakashi. He had smashed himself into the narrow space between two bookshelves, a large volume perched on his knees. There was a cluster of unoccupied armchairs just a few feet away.

"Oh, hello Kakashi," Hermione peered at the book, attempting to catch the title unobtrusively without appearing nosy.

The shinobi nodded at them without looking up.

"You know there are chairs over there," she said with a small smile.

Kakashi nodded a second time, his gaze again unmoved.

Harry looked at Hermione with uncertainty, struck by a sudden moral dilemma. "Should we tell him about the challenge?" he whispered.

Kakashi pretended not to hear them.

Hermione looked torn by this question. "I don't know," she whispered back, "maybe he already knows." She cleared her throat and said, at normal volume, "What's that you're reading, Kakashi-san?"

Wordlessly, he tipped the book up so they could have a look at title on the spine.

"_How to Bewitch your Friends and Befuddle your Enemies, Volume 2,_" Hermione read. "That's an interesting choice," she said approvingly.

"I'm looking for something to use on Filch," Kakashi said in perfect seriousness. "Something that will put him away for a few months, I think, but short of killing him," he turned a page briskly.

Harry snorted. Hermione looked mildly concerned.

"You don't look very comfortable there," the bushy-haired girl said kindly. "Why don't you join us over there?" she gestured to the gathering of chairs, ignoring Harry's uneasy glance.

But the shinobi shook his head. "I'm fine here. It's more comfortable than it looks."

"Well, alright then. If you say so." The two of them started off towards the chairs. Hermione called back, "If you want to join us, we'll be right over here."

The masked tip of Kakashi's nose could be seen nodding behind the bookcase.

The two sat down together at the armchairs and spread their numerous books out on armrests and neighboring chairs.

"Hermione, there's something I didn't tell you about what Sirius said the other night." Harry said in a hushed tone. There was something about Kakashi—something about the way his nose was moving ever so slightly from side to side as he read, something about the posture of his legs sticking out from the tiny space—that made him suspect he was listening to them. "He was talking about Kakashi,"

"Oh?"

"He read about him in the papers. You've seen them, right?"

"Yes, they call him Kakashi Satou. Security reasons, I suspect."

Harry shook his head. "But what does he need to be secure about?"

"The whole East is at war with itself," Hermione whispered. "Dumbledore understands that. It's just dangerous to put a name out there like that,"

"I see they're not taking any special care with mine," Harry sighed.

"That's different, and you know it."

"How is it different?" Harry responded hotly.

"Shh!" The girl hushed her friend. Kakashi's nose had stopped moving back and forth. "Keep your voice down. Tell me what Sirius said."

"Right. He said something about meeting shinobi in Azkaban. Eastern wizards, you know. Said Volde—You-Know-Who used to have them under his control. He thinks Kakashi might be working for him."

"Working for his _followers_, you mean," Hermione corrected him, frowning. "Well, I do know that last time, Voldemort was recruiting as many races as he could onto his side. He had giants, hags, trolls…the whole lot of them. But I've never read anything about foreign wizards becoming involved; at least, not in great numbers."

"Well, you might've noticed there's not much literature on shinobi anyway," Harry said matter-of-factly. "Besides, Sirius seemed sure of what he said."

Hermione looked doubtfully over to the pair of legs protruding from the bookcase. "I don't know Harry. Kakashi just doesn't seem the type to get involved in something like that."

"That's what I told Sirius."

There was a silence as they both considered Kakashi's possible disloyalties.

Hermione finally broke it with a question. "Are you going to tell him about the dragons?"

"He'll be the only Champion not to know, now that I've told Cedric,"

"All this could get you disqualified, you know." Hermione pointed out.

The bespectacled boy looked at her, "And that is a bad thing how?" They both chuckled feebly.

Suddenly, the broad head of Victor Krum poked around a corner. It was quickly detracted. Hermione rolled her eyes. "And here is he again. We should go, Harry, his fan club will be here soon."

Harry laughed good-naturedly. They both gathered up their books and left, leaving Kakashi behind.

The silver-haired boy lowered his book as soon as they were gone. The pair had been far enough away from him that any non-shinobi ears would be strained to hear clearly, but Kakashi had exceptional senses even for a shinobi. He had heard every word.

* * *

Kakashi was making his way across the main courtyard after Charms class the following afternoon. He had vague intentions of stopping by the kitchens on the way to his next class, but his head was across the world. He was wondering about Gai and the self-proclaimed "friends" he had left behind Konoha. If the newest war was true, any number of them could easily perish before he was allowed to return home. Any minute, one or dozens of them could meet their ends and it could take weeks for the news to reach him.

The shinobi had lived through too many years of war not to know how quickly the world could change. His entire village could be destroyed while he waited, obliviously, perhaps sitting in his Dormitory with his head in a wizard book. If the Kyuubi hadn't proven that to him, nothing would.

Disturbing as these thoughts were even in their own right, they were compounded by the niggling question in Kakashi's mind: did he care for the right reasons—those of honor and commitment to his village, or because the people he apparently cared about were there? It was dangerous to allow himself to feel such attachments, he told himself. It would destroy his ability to serve his station as a potent weapon. Even here, rotting in this wizard school, he could not allow his guard to slip.

With these thoughts firmly in mind, he continued on his way. He did not hear a voice calling his name until Harry Potter was practically upon him.

He waved at Hermione Granger, his bag slung carelessly over one shoulder, and approached the preoccupied shinobi.

"Hatake," he said, a bit breathless from the effort of catching up.

"Hmm?" Kakashi couldn't help but narrow his eyes unconsciously.

Harry didn't seem fazed by this, if he even noticed. "I need to tell you something," he glanced around the crowded courtyard. People were looking at him spitefully and flashing Potter Stinks badges. "Can we go someplace quieter?"

Kakashi nodded impassively and allowed the black-haired teen to lead him away from the school, in the general direction of Hagrid's hut. They stopped as soon as the constant stream of students was out of sight.

"You're going to make me late for Transfiguration," Kakashi deadpanned.

Harry rolled his eyes, not unkindly. "And that's very important to you, I'm sure."

"It is when it's McGonagall's class," Kakashi protested, now growing slightly peeved.

"Well, I'll make it quick then. Kakashi, the first—" he was abruptly cut off.

"You know," Kakashi interrupted, "You and Weasley shouldn't fight."

Harry blinked, slightly taken aback. He felt a brief surge of anger at both Ron and Kakashi, but he managed to bite it back. "Stop changing the subject. The first task—"

Kakashi, apparently, wasn't done. "I mean, didn't you say he's like family to you? I thought families are supposed to get up and keep going in face of things like this."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't know."

There was a sort of fake, superficial curve in Kakashi's eye that suggested he was trying to smile. "I wouldn't either. But I'm sure you saw enough of them on television to make your own assumptions. I thought the British are fond of soap operas."

"Not much room for televisions inside cupboards, Hatate." Harry replied with some annoyance. He mentally calmed himself. "If you're so worried about being late to Transfiguration, shut up and listen for a second."

Kakashi adopted a blatantly feigned expression of attentiveness.

"The first task, Hatake; it's dragons."

Kakashi's surprise didn't reach his face. Whatever he had been expecting for these wizards to thrust upon him in the Tournament, it certainly hadn't been dragons. He wasn't even aware they still existed. "Of course," he said with a shrug, "What, you just found out?"

Harry blinked. "You already knew?"

The silver-haired youth said innocently, "I've known for weeks."

Suddenly Harry felt that telltale anger growing beneath his sternum. Kakashi had known all along and not bothered to tell anyone? Even when it was a matter of life or death? "Well, I assumed…I assumed you'd tell us so…we could, you know, prepare?"

Kakashi shrugged. "This is a competition isn't it?"

"Yes but—!" Suddenly all his words abandoned him. He felt incredibly foolish, standing there before this Eastern boy who had done nothing in the months of his stay besides assert his vast superiority over them all. Harry scowled. He had gone into this situation accepting the sarcasm and aloofness as part of package that came with Kakashi, but his disdain and condescension was too much. Harry let his tongue escape him. "You're a real prick sometimes, you know that?"

Kakashi smiled that same empty smile. "I didn't come here to win any popularity contests. Besides," he added as an afterthought, "so are you."

Harry turned on his heels. "Well, sorry for telling you. Sorry for wasting just a _scrap_ of concern on whether you live or die. And thanks for returning the favor."

Kakashi watched the other boy go with only the vaguest regret. It was a pity that Potter was trying to reach out to him. Had he not tried to do so, Kakashi was quite sure they all could have coexisted quite happily without expending an ounce of energy trying to get to know each other.

He set off towards the Transfiguration classroom at a leisurely jog. If he hurried, he would be able to arrive on time and avoid McGonagall's wrath.

"Dragons, huh?" He said under his breath. "At least it should be interesting."

* * *

(A/N) Aghhh! Do not like! This chapter and I have issues.

So, from now on, when I say "Arashi" I mean "Minato," which is apparently Yellow-Flash's name. I think I like Arashi better. Minato reminds me of those little river lobsters. The ones that hide under rocks.

Next chapter is the First Trial. All I know for sure is that it's gonna be a bitch to write. Therefore, you may have to allow me some time to write it to my satisfaction, me being the perfectionist that I am. I hope I don't disappoint.

Sorry again for the disgraceful delay. For those who don't know, I put notes on my user page that describe my status on writing/posting stuff. If I'm ever missing in action, check that page and you might find out why, and even when I'll be back. (A/N)


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: Of Dragons**

(AN) Hello! This chapter is really long. Some of you may appreciate that…but I personally don't have the attention span to read anything more than 3000 words at once, so…meh. I have not replied to any of the reviews from 18 or 19, but I will reply to 20 reviews. I promise. Really. No, I mean it this time. But anyway, I've read all your comments and I love them :3.

Enjoy, thanks for reading. Oh, and very big thank-you to my beta-reader for this chapter, Beboots, who helped me take the mess that was this chapter and turn it into the lightly-less-messy mess you see here.

* * *

Hatake Kakashi's mouth was agape. He couldn't feel the broomstick in his hand anymore. He had seen plenty of nasty things during his many nights in the Forbidden Forest, but they all paled before this. The tree branch he was sitting on shook dangerously as a chained dragon let loose a full-throated roar, and Kakashi had to fight to keep his balance. He had been doubtful of Potter's word at first, and had thus that night decided to venture into the forest to find out for himself if these dragons were truly the First Task.

He had followed the nearly-imperceptible smell of wild animals and smoke to a deep part of the forest, deeper than he had ever hazarded to go before. The sight that greeted him when he finally found the source of the scent was breathtaking, even for a seasoned member of ANBU like Kakashi. He stared openly from his treetop just at the edge of the clearing, perhaps thirty or forty yards from the sight. In the middle of a large clearing, blocked off with hastily-erected barbed wire fencing, stood five huge metal posts driven into the ground. Near the base of each post trailed a thick chain, and at the end of each chain—Kakashi blanched—a full-grown, veritable dragon strained against its bonds in all of its impossible glory.

Suddenly, this Tournament didn't seem nearly as simple as Kakashi had thought it would be. Kakashi let the broomstick slip from his fingers to the spongy ground several yards below. He calculatingly watched it fall, making no attempt to catch it, and looked up as soon as it hit the ground. A wizard wouldn't have been able to hear the sound the old broomstick made when it landed, but at least thirty yards away, two dragons reacted. The first, a glittering black creature, merely turned its massive head blindly towards the forest and brutalized a nearby tree branch as warning before turning back to gnaw uselessly at its bonds.

The other dragon was smaller and reddish brown like brick-clay, with large, perceptive eyes set before the base of two horn-like ears. The dragon's sleek body stiffened the moment the noise reached it, and its head quivered for half a second, its shrewd gaze scanning the forest edge before focusing exactly on the spot below Kakashi's branch. The shinobi grimaced.

He watched as the creature's gaze followed the tree trunk up, closer to Kakashi's perch, straining to see around leaves and branches, and then—a sharp clang as the dragon jerked furiously against its chain, a piercing roar as it was knocked to its back by its own force, a snap of its massive jaws as it saw that its quarry had disappeared. It turned away from the forest with smoke trailing from its nostrils.

Kakashi let out a soft breath from his new hiding place. "Dragons!" he breathed incredulously. He tried to reason with himself. He had faced equally hideous summons in the course of his service, and those were all controlled by powerful shinobi. A dragon couldn't possibly be harder to manage than a fight with the average A-ranked missing-nin and his summon. He had even fought such shinobi with restrictions on his techniques for the sake of secrecy…but never with so _many_ restrictions.

Kakashi retrieved his broomstick and started back towards the castle while considering his situation.

In addition to a mostly-wizard audience, from which he wanted neither fame nor questioning, the competition would be an open event. There could be any number of undesirable people in the stands that day…Kakashi knew that there were chakra users in Britain; the gray hawk in Hogsmeade had established that. There were shinobi here, albeit not many—it was a matter of who those shinobi were, what they wanted, and whether or not they would be in the audience.

Mentally the teen drew up a list of possible consequences resulting from his use of chakra techniques in the First Task. There would be troublesome attention from the harmless wizard population. He risked discovery by harmless shinobi who could compromise his identity. There was the possibility of discovery by malignant shinobi from past missions. Finally, he could be discovered by Orochimaru and company, which would almost certainly result in some kind of bloodbath at a time and place unsuitable to Kakashi.

"Hmm." He pondered. He had two options: he could limit his fighting to a simple show of magic and taijutsu, or he could draw the dragon away from the crowd and fight it to his whole capacity there. He would have three days to prepare in either case, and he would need every minute. In the former situation, he would need time to learn some powerful wizard spells. In the latter, he would have to skip the next three days of class to keep from wasting his chakra on schoolwork.

"Well, should be interesting," he murmured to himself as he broke from the Forbidden Forest and approached the castle's broad stone wall.

There were some silvery ghosts and a teacher Kakashi didn't recognize milling about near the edge of the great lake. Kakashi let out a small laugh when he realized they had been dispatched by McGonagall to look for him. The silver-haired shinobi scaled the castle wall to the nearest window and disappeared inside it. In his dreams that night he fought dragons in and out of Hogwarts.

* * *

"Hatake!" McGonagall's shrill voice convulsed around the room, making the students standing nearest to her grimace and turn away. The whole room was standing with their wands in hand, attempting to transform their Horn-Crested Sparrows into bedtime slippers. Sweat was pouring down Neville Longbottom's face. There was little success, and the birds were flying chaotically around the room with absolutely no regard for the brandishing wands and the occasional flying slipper. One bird had landed on Draco Malfoy's head, and he swatted at it distractedly while attempting to _stupefy_ his sparrow.

In the middle of all this disarray sat a completely unperturbed Kakashi, with a book balanced pristinely on the crown of his head to protect against avian air strikes. He rapped a tuneless beat into the table with his fingertips and mouthed the words to some unnamable song.

"Hatake!" McGonagall shouted again. With a wave of her wand she cleared a spot of bird droppings from the wide brim of her wizard's hat. "_What_ are you doing?"

"Nothing!" Kakashi said with feigned injury.

The harried witch gestured angrily towards her class, leaning in to Kakashi's desk. "Then, why," she began, with a pained look on her face, "Aren't you doing _that_?" Her spindly finger swung around her classroom.

"I'm allergic to birds," Kakashi lied outright. He examined his fingernails.

McGonagall's face turned an unhealthy shade of green. "Then you'd better start turning them into _slippers_, you fool boy!"

Kakashi smirked appreciatively. "Forgot my wand," he replied, truthfully this time.

The professor straightened her hat and mumbled something angrily before a hearty, "_Accio_, Hatake's wand!" She reached out and snatched the summoned wand from the air moments later, and let it clatter to the table at Kakashi's strumming fingertips. She waited. He picked it up. She smiled one of the angriest smiles Kakashi had ever received from her. He smiled back. The witch nodded curtly and turned around to assist Neville, who had managed to turn his own foot into a fleshy sort of shoe with wings on it.

As soon as her back was turned, Kakashi walked brazenly out the door. Clearly, the "peaceful protest" strategy wasn't going to work.

Kakashi cornered Fred and George Weasley in the courtyard after the period ended. Their knees were covered in mud, suggesting that they had certainly not been in class.

"Why, hello Ka—!" George began.

"I want you to make me sick," Kakashi said before he could finish. "I hear you two sell some sort of poisoned candies?"

The twins blinked for a moment as they digested this surprising change of circumstances. "You've come to the right place, old bean!" Impossibly wide grins spread across the twins' faces, and they each threw an arm around Kakashi's either shoulder.

"Let's walk," said Fred. The shinobi let them pull him forward.

"Now, don't think we're not still mad at you for the Goblet incident," George said, shaking his finger sternly.

"We _might_ have to get back at you for that."

Kakashi rolled his eyes. Clearly, these were not the best people to buy poison from at the moment. "You know what; I think I can work something out somewhere else—"

"Hang on, mate! Don't get your panties in a bunch."

"I assure you," Fred pledged, "My dear brother and I boast nothing but the highest quality in both our goods _and_ our customer service."

"Right you are, Fred. Don't worry ole' boy, we'd _never_ do something like…whatever it is your loony little mind is thinking." Kakashi scowled as George reached up to give him a friendly knuckling in the head.

He swatted the teen's hand away. "I want something to keep me out of class for two days, plus today; but not beyond then. Can you manage that?"

Fred tapped the end of his nose knowingly. "Ahhh, ikkle Hatake's figured out the First Task, has he?"

Kakashi blinked. "You know too?"

"Charlie told us," George said offhandedly.

"That, or we opened Mum's letter to him," Fred added under his breath.

"I don't suppose you have any advice for me?"

The twins shook their heads sadly. "Keep your head, is the best advice I can give."

"Literally." They both roared with laughter.

"But really," Fred straightened up, "They're nasty business, dragons. Don't get yourself killed; George and I feel that you're quite an amusing person."

"It'd be a right shame if you ended up like Charlie's friend Jacko."

"Too soon, mate…too soon." Fred and George bowed their heads sadly.

At this point they had arrived at the twins' dormitory, which looked almost identical to Kakashi's with the exception of the black explosion marks which seemed to decorate every surface of their room from walls to ceiling. George muttered a spell and traced something onto the wall beside his singed four-poster, and he pulled a shoebox out from the hole that magically appeared.

"Gotta keep Filch away," Fred explained.

"He's been doing raids." George added as he pulled the box open, revealing a compartmentalized stockpile of brightly colored candies all organized into a space that was considerably larger than the volume of a shoebox would appear to be.

The red-haired teen rifled through the box for a moment, and Fred smiled jovially at Kakashi with his hands folded behind his back, rocking idly from his heels to the balls of his feet. He was the very picture of a saint.

"Here we are, one Puking Pasty," George triumphantly held up a small chocolate wrapped sloppily in bright pink foil. They put it happily in Kakashi's hand. "That'll be five knuts." The shinobi was instantly suspicious…the tight-fisted Fred and George he knew would never hand over the product without first securing payment. Clearly, they were too eager for Kakashi to take _this_ candy.

The shinobi smiled. "Of course." He dug through his pockets for five of the little bronze coins, and as he brought them out he pretended to bump his hand against the bedpost. Five coins scattered across the floor, and two landed inside the shoebox. "I'll get it." And as he reached inside to retrieve the knuts, he switched the suspicious candy for a neatly-stacked purple one. He paid his money and left.

Neither Fred nor George would notice the switch until weeks later, when an unfortunate first-year was hospitalized for a mysterious ailment involving his ears swelling up like balloons with tiny pink frogs wriggling out of his nose.

* * *

Kakashi chose Potions class as the perfect one in which to establish his illness. He had a vague hope that perhaps he could vomit into Neville's cauldron, which would proceed to explode, thus sickening the entire classroom enough for Kakashi to slip under Madame Pomfrey's notice…but it was not to be. The first problem was that the Puking Pasty worked surprisingly quickly, and the shinobi simply didn't have time to make it to Neville's cauldron and had to settle on Draco Malfoy's instead. The next immediate issue was the fact that Malfoy's cauldron did not explode, but instead turned violently purple and congealed into a froth that overflowed slothfully onto Malfoy's lap.

In any other possible circumstance, Kakashi would have been able to avoid the punch Malfoy swung at him without blinking an eye. But at that particular moment, the Puking Pasty was not quite done with him, and Kakashi's hands were occupied with suspending himself over the cauldron of unknown potion. He could do nothing as Malfoy's fist collided solidly with his jaw.

Suddenly half the class was on its feet with wands drawn, including, Kakashi was surprised to see, Harry Potter with his wand pointed squarely at Malfoy in what appeared to be some spontaneous attempt to defend Kakashi.

Snape descended upon the scene. He yanked the stricken shinobi away from the cauldron by the scruff of his robes at the exact moment that Kakashi's stomach clenched once again. Disgust spread across the professor's face as a trail of sick splashed against his robes.

Kakashi sprawled to the floor on his knees and elbows, sputtering profanities between retching. Clearly Fred and George still had some work to do on their creation.

Kakashi winced at this memory as he lay in the Hospital Wing later that evening. Madame Pomfrey's potions had done little to ease the roiling tempest in his gut, so for once he almost agreed with the portly nurse that to leave the Hospital Wing now could precipitate nothing but disaster.

And so he allowed the witch to fuss over him, and he endured her potions. She scolded him frequently, usually while administering some archaic medicine with a bedside manner that almost approached Tsunade's in brutality, and Kakashi had to wonder what he could possibly done to offend her this time—as far as she knew, he had done nothing wrong.

While this was going on, Kakashi had a Kage Bunshin disguised as a student in the library to research dragons. It was not going well. By the end of the evening, he had discovered nothing in the area of simple spells to use on dragons…no wonder Potter and his Granger friend had spent so much time searching. But they had been given plenty of warning—Kakashi had only two days.

Eventually, the teen changed his tactics. He hazarded the creation of two Kage Bunshin: one in the library and another in the Forbidden Forest to observe the adversary. Meanwhile, Kakashi stayed in bed and fought off the lingering effects of Weasley special candy. First he tried henge-ing his library bunshin into a professor in order to access the Restricted section of the library, but this attempt yielded little information of use. Then he had the bunshin shadow Harry and Hermione to read all the books they did after they discarded them. This, too, did little for him. The bunshin in the Forbidden Forest tried out some shinobi stealth tactics on the dragons, and he managed to fool three of the five at least once. He never succeeded in getting more than twenty yards from the black or red dragons before he was noticed.

Kakashi mulled over these failures at some late-night hour at the end of his second day. He had just one day left. It seemed that his only real prospects for survival lay in the release of his full shinobi arsenal and the dragon's likely death. This worried Kakashi. He wasn't sure that he wanted to kill his dragon.

Kakashi swore, right in the middle of the Hospital Wing. He didn't _want_ to kill the dragon? Who was he to not want to do anything? He was a shinobi, for kami's sake—he savagely reprimanded himself— and an ANBU, to boot, and if he was starting to get soft over the simple matter of a thoughtless, unfeeling animal…well, it appeared he wouldn't need to be ANBU for very much longer.

"You've killed too many innocent things to be afraid of killing an ugly dragon." He whispered into the darkness around him. "Snap out of it." A small voice coughed from somewhere on the other side of the room. The shinobi suddenly remembered the second year who was sick with the Nargle Pox. The youngster coughed again.

"Shut up!" Kakashi yelled through the curtains. "I'm trying to think!"

The boy didn't make another sound for the rest of the night.

* * *

Kakashi could almost taste the tension in the Champions' tent on the day of the First Task. It tasted stale and sour, like apples that were too green. Or maybe what grass might taste like…either way, he didn't like it. The atmosphere inside the tent had reached that precise combination of cold weather and the warmth of nerves and sweat that made sitting still almost impossible.

This, too, bothered Kakashi. He could see the remaining three Champions shifting uncomfortably on their chairs every few seconds. Together, the three of them could not sit still for more than five seconds, Kakashi noticed with annoyance after a few moments of observation. First Potter would reach up to straighten his glasses, then wipe his nose. Krum would look stonily down at the ground until a cheer came from the crowd outside, when he look up abruptly and then return his gaze to the tent floor. Fleur Delacour would cross and uncross her legs, at least twice a minute, sometimes at the ankle and sometimes at the knee.

When the whistle sounded, all three looked up simultaneously and Fleur blanched when her name was called. She paused at the entrance of the tent, looking back pleadingly at the remaining Champions—her gaze lingered longest on Kakashi—and finally her hair swept in a long arc behind her as she turned and strode towards the field.

The remaining two, Potter and Krum, each fell back into their fidgeting routines. Kakashi just scowled at nothing and watched his dragon miniature tear up the box of tissues sitting on a nearby table.

How ridiculous, Kakashi told himself, _of course_ he wasn't nervous. The tissues burst unexpectedly into flame. Nervousness was for schoolchildren waiting for the curtain to rise on their school play. Kakashi was not a schoolchild, and he had never been in a school play. He was a shinobi, and the word "nervousness" held no meaning for him. And yet, inexplicably, he felt that undeniable pinching feeling somewhere in his naval.

It was Potter's fault, he decided. It was Potter's fault for reaching up to fiddle with his glasses so often. And it was Krum's fault for letting his bulky head jerk towards the field at the slightest noise. The two of them just _oozed_ tension, so it filled up the small space of the tent like some insidious, invisible gas until all three of them were choked up by it. It was their fault, not his.

The tiny miniature dragon had now exhausted its supply of things to destroy, so it was busily provoking Krum's Chinese Fireball, which was just as busily trying to ignore it. Kakashi watched the two of them scuffle for awhile before extracting his own tiny dragon from the brawl by the tip of its tail. He trapped it inside a nearby wastebasket.

Victor Krum's head jerked up when the whistle blew. He rose with confidence, his resolve visibly strengthening, and walked out to face his challenge without a backwards glance. That left just Potter and Kakashi, and Harry was glancing at Kakashi as if he was trying to think of something to say.

As he watched his dragon claw at the smooth inside of the wastebasket, Kakashi carried an air that he hoped clearly stated _shut up and go away_ to certain talkative wizards. Yet Harry did not pick up on this hidden message.

"So, you got the Serbian Brownhorn?" he said finally. He sounded choked.

Kakashi grunted in reply.

"Nasty one. Hagrid says it's the worst of the lot."

"Mm."

Harry paused for a moment and tried to think of something else to say. Finally, he seized upon something. "Have you got a plan?"

Kakashi's stomach lurched traitorously. "Should I?" He asked, rather more genuinely than he had meant to.

"Well…yeah," Harry said uncertainly. "I mean, it's _dragons_, Hatake."

Kakashi nodded. "I've fought worse."

"They have dragons in Japan?"

The shinobi blinked. "N—yeah. Something like that."

Of course, a little voice silently reminded him inside his head, in those instances he hadn't been the feature entertainment for an audience of thousands, and he had been allowed to use as much chakra as he had wanted.

"Well, what do you plan to do?" Harry asked. He seemed to be brightening, as though the display of Kakashi's dismal unpreparedness was boosting Harry's confidence in his own plan.

Kakashi shrugged, and said truthfully, "I'm going to go out there and try not to die."

Harry began to laugh nervously, but stopped when he realized that Kakashi's words were said in all seriousness. "I think you…well…" he trailed off. "There will be people standing by if things go wrong, at least."

Kakashi scoffed under his breath. What was the point of the whole thing if there were going to be nursemaids waiting by with hugs and medicine?

"What was that for?" Harry queried, hearing the scoff.

"Where I come from," Kakashi said without looking up, "There are no fun and games." And yet, he thought bitterly, he was more nervous today than he had been at the age of six, standing in a line of shinobi waiting to kill and die. Perhaps it was because in life and death, the greatest possible loss meant nothing at all to someone who had lost it. But what did Kakashi possibly have to lose now, in this wizards' school thousands of miles away from everything he cared for?

A roar came from the crowd, and Harry's fingers pushed up against the bridge of his glasses. "Good luck, Hatake." He said.

Kakashi nodded. "You too." He got up calmly when the whistle blew and pushed aside a flap of the tent. Instantly the cold autumn air and the roars of the crowd bombarded him. Was that singed hair he smelled? Never mind that now. His legs transported him by their own accord out onto the field, and Kakashi's eyes instantly trained on the brownish-red dragon he had encountered in the woods. The creature lunged for him as it caught his scent on the wind, but the heavy chain around its neck kept it back.

The shinobi could hear the announcer's voice blaring through the clearing, but his brain didn't bother to put the words together. He was looking intently up into the crowd, the mass of faceless people—something wasn't right. Something was out of place.

He squinted up at the entity that was the crowd, trying to separate the out-of-place individual from the masses. He was just about the put his finger on it when he saw an identical look in the eyes of every member of the crowd, and he turned around just soon enough to see the Brownhorn dragon straining against its chains and drawing in a deep breath. It was clear what was coming.

Kakashi began to swear, "Fu—" but the word was cut off with the compression of his abdomen as his body bent backwards in a flip. He twisted through the air, watching the world tumble around him with the dragon in the center of it all, a ball of fire streaming from its mouth. He landed on his feet several yards away from the path of fire, and the moment he felt solid earth beneath his feet he sprinted in a wide circle around the dragon until he was directly behind it.

There was the Golden Egg. A single dash would be sufficient to take him to it, but the dragon would be upon him before he could make a round trip.

The creature was snorting in confusion, the heavy metal chain clinking as its head jerked back and forth, the dragon smelling for Kakashi with its nostrils in the air. And then Kakashi was staring into its angry red eyes, and the slack in the chain was dragging along the dirt as the dragon began to charge away from its egg, with the intention to kill.

Kakashi was surprised. It was much faster than he had expected. He maneuvered around the dragon's charge, and noticed that the creature was intentionally steering him towards a corner of the field with tall rocks. It was trying to trap him, and it was succeeding. Kakashi swore again, and pushed his speed faster. If he ran at his full capacity, it would be glaringly obvious to all the thousands of people in the stands that he was no wizard.

Kakashi's mind quickly began to put together his situation. He couldn't use his advantage of speed or maneuverability in such a small enclosure and with so many obstacles. The dragon had the benefit of range and size. But Kakashi had strategy. He quickly spotted a length of scaffolding nearby, standing between Kakashi and the crowd and evidently meant to separate the stands from the field. He dashed up a jutting rock and leapt off its edge. He curled his legs in to his chest and braced his arms for the catch. The tendons in his arms stretched painfully as he caught part of the scaffolding and swung from it onto the top part of the structure. He began to run along the perimeter of the enclosure, watching the dragon's patient, beady eyes follow him.

The shinobi had his wand out. One by one, he fired off spells that he had found in the course of his research towards the dragon. And one by one, they either bounced off its shiny red coat or had no discernable effect.

Kakashi swore. Why was it this fool wizard school taught its students how to turn groundhogs into earmuffs but couldn't be bothered to teach them how to slay dragons?

* * *

In the stands, the students watched the battle progress with wide eyes. Hermione had covered her face with her mittened hands and was peeking out from a crack between her fingers.

"Oh!" she wailed as she watched Kakashi narrowly escape being roasted, "Why doesn't he do something? Running around won't do him any good!"

"Calm down, Hermione, he'll be fine." Neville said. He looked less than confident. "I mean…he knows what he's doing, right?"

The crowd gasped as the small figure on the field sailed off the scaffolding and landed with a neat tuck near the center of the arena. Within seconds, the dragon had closed the gap between them and had covered the space where Kakashi had been seconds ago with flames. Hermione squeaked in horror and seized Ron's arm.

"He's doomed," Ron said in despair. "And Hermione, I can't feel my arm."

"Sorry," the bushy-haired girl loosened her grip on Ron's elbow. "And you shouldn't say things like that! Positive attitude is—!" she was interrupted by a voice behind her.

"Well, this is more interesting than I thought it would be. What d'you say, lad? Ten sickles that he beats that dragon in ten minutes?"

Ron whirled around at the familiar voice. "You!" he said almost accusingly, "You're that fellow from the pub!"

Hermione fixed Ron with a stern look. "Ron! You're meeting strange men in pubs now?"

"I didn't meet him on purpose," Ron said irritably, "I was with Fred and George."

"He's doing rather badly, isn't he?" the man said. "Tell me, lad, who is that Champion there?"

Ron opened his mouth "That's Kakash—"

"Kakashi Saito," Hermione finished for him. "And we will not be taking bets on his life, thanks."

The cloaked man from the Boar's Head Tavern shrugged and pulled that same battered leather flask from his coat that Ron had seen in the pub. He swallowed a mouthful of a strange-smelling alcohol. It was called _sake_, Ron remembered. "Saito, right. That was his name." the man paused, looking thoughtfully down on Kakashi's fleeting figure. "Having a rough time of it, eh?"

Suddenly Fred and George Weasley elbowed their way into the conversation. "Very rough indeed, my good friend."

"Absolutely miserable, to be sure."

"Now what's all this we've been hearing about bets?"

"Ten sickles that he beats it in ten minutes. What do you say, boys?"

"Accepted. And we'll raise you five sickles that he beats it in five." The twins grinned.

The man smiled, his face illuminated by the sun. For the first time, Ron got a good look at the man's face. He was not old, but he seemed too tired to be young. He had short-cropped brown hair and had a single pierced ear. There was the shadow of a scar on his jaw underneath a layer of stubble. He put out his hand and shook with each twin.

"So, the boy's from Japan, eh?"

"Right you are, my good man." Fred said happily.

"And his name is…what again?"

"Saito." Hermione said firmly, before the twins could answer.

The man looked pensive. "He looks familiar. Damn, does he look familiar."

"Have you met him before?" Ron asked suspiciously.

The cloaked man shrugged and didn't answer. He took a long drink from his flask. The stands gasped collectively as they watched Kakashi fly backwards through the air and into a rock. There was a sickening thud as his body collided with the hard obstacle. He tumbled to the ground.

Fred and George groaned in unison. "What happened?"

"He was going for the egg and the tail caught him mid-air," Neville answered in a tremulous voice.

"Get up, damn you Hatake," George muttered. The dragon was standing over the place where Kakashi had disappeared, drawing in a breath. The crowd screamed as one voice as a blast of fire erupted from the dragon's mouth. The earth began to rumble faintly, and there was a cascade of pebbles and dust as a pillar of stone shot up from the ground, splitting the fire around it and shielding Kakashi from harm.

The Brownhorn reeled back as the heat of the fire rebounded off the rock and accosted the dragon's delicate eyes. It lurched away with a roar, the red leathery wings stretching. The dragon's massive body began to heave itself into the air, sweeping up dirt and dust with every stroke of its wings.

* * *

Kakashi panted behind his wall of rock. He couldn't breathe through all the dust; it had coated his mask. He picked up his discarded wand, which he had thrown to his feet to form the hand signs for the Earth Splitting technique. He leaned against the jutting rock, feeling the pebbles and granules shift beneath his fingers. There was no time to waste. Wizard spells were not working. His only remaining option was to use jutsu.

But he had very clearly sensed chakra in the crowd.

The use of another jutsu would not escape the notice of whatever shinobi had decided to come see the show. Of course, it was impossible to say if the mystery shinobi had noticed the Earth Splitting jutsu, in which case his true identity as a shinobi would be compromised either way.

A shadow fell over the rock as the dragon flew overhead. Kakashi saw its head, blind and infuriated, stretching down towards him. The dragon's huge nostrils were flaring open and closed. The eyes were puffy and swollen shut from its earlier rebounded fire. It opened its mouth and emitted a roar that Kakashi could feel in his chest. He narrowly escaped the snapping jaws and sprinted towards the egg, but his path was cut off by a burst of heat and fire that made the air around him shimmer and contract with the heat.

Kakashi thew himself out of the fire's way and turned around—the dragon's position was perfect. It was hovering just in front of a section of scaffolding that had been smashed by a sweep of its tail. But the metal chain did not give enough slack for the dragon to reach the scaffolding. All he had to do was break the chain, and use a Wind-based jutsu to sweep the dragon into the demolished scaffolding—it would be run through on the sharp twisted ends of metal.

The chain was clinking a few feet away. He leapt for it. His hands blurred into the signs for the Chidori, and the dirt beneath his feet quivered with the intensity of the noise that came from it. It was a small Chidori, and if he was lucky the stands wouldn't see it through the haze of dust.

It took three slashes of Chidori to break the heavy chain. Now he had nothing left to do but send the dragon sweeping to its death, now that the chain couldn't hold it back from the distance to the scaffolding.

Something in Kakashi made him pause. The dragon was rising through the air now, the huge leathery wings flapping harder, its great head pointed towards its egg. It was just like him, Kakashi thought, only interested in the mission. He had only a split second to make the choice that would decide the dragon's life or death.

Kakashi's hands blurred, a scroll unfurled around him. The ground began to split at his feet and half a dozen Nin-Dogs burst from the dirt. The dragon was taking in another huge breath, its gaping, tooth-lined maw pointed squarely at the shinobi. At the same time, it was rising into the air and pulling Kakashi with it; his hands were still clutching the now-broken chain. Without thinking he scaled the length of the chain and clambered onto the Dragon's back. It flailed beneath him and released several short bursts of flame into the air. He flung the end of the chain towards his dogs.

Below him, the Nin-Dogs seized the chain and were together dragging it towards the scaffolding. The combined force of the Nin-Dogs was pulling the dragon backwards, flipping it in the air. Kakashi felt the creature begin to sink as it started to lose altitude. If he stayed on the dragon's back, he would be crushed. So in two short strides, he ran up the dragon's muscular neck and—with a foot firmly planted between the dragon's eyes—he leapt from the creature's head to safety below. Seconds later, the dragon lost the lift under its wings and came crashing to the ground, releasing another cloud of dust into the air. Kakashi put his hands together for the translocation jutsu and appeared beside the Golden Egg.

* * *

In the stands, the crowd roared. Ron was screaming "What _was_ that spell?" at Hermione, who could only try to mouth "I don't know" and cheer at the same time. Fred and George had collapsed in grief.

"Six minutes!" Fred lamented.

"He failed us, again!" George wailed.

But the cloaked man from the Boar's Head Tavern had a strange look on his face. "Keep your money, lads," he said. "I've got to…I need to go." And with that, he was gone.

* * *

A/N See? I can do action scenes too, not just psychobabble and mindfuck. Or, maybe I can't? I'll let you decide.

Ahh…too long. Twice as long as usual. I hope you were all satisfied with my representation of Kakashi fighting the dragon. I tried to balance the elements here, of shinobi-ness with human-ness (I don't like my shinobi to be Gods, if you know what I mean). Please, don't review with things like "Ya know he shoulda just transported there." Because that wouldn't have been very interesting at all, would it?

Yes, the guy in the stands is the same pub guy from ch17. Also, please don't ask if he's Orochimaru. He's not. Neither is he Jiraiya. Remember that there are thousands more shinobi in the "Naruto" world than the ones we know. Also, he is not a long-lost acquaintance of Kakashi's childhood, his long lost brother, Sasuke's long lost brother, or anything of that sort. In fact, he and Kakashi have no history with each other. I'm saying this because I loathe oc's like that (like Sasuke's long lost angstbitch sister who's actually a demon and so pwnsome), but I think that a few carefully designed oc's are essential for a believable plot.

Now I must reply to anonymous reviewer "Reviewer" who said something about this story being a total bitch to keep writing. Well, nothing could be truer said! I'm already well aware of how ridiculously long this story is getting, and I'm making an effort to pick up the pace. I'm planning for just one or two chapters between now and task 2. Will that happen? Maybe. Probably not. We'll see. (A/N)


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

AN: Hello readers. Once again, I apologize for the wait. I've been in an epic writer's block. Blame my headache, whose name is Mildred. Or maybe Midge, I'm not sure which one fits better.

I'd like to thank everyone for giving this fic the response it has received thus far. I didn't even try to answer the 75 reviews I got for the last chapter, and I probably won't be able to put much effort into that from now on. But please understand that I read all my reviews and I really appreciate them, and sometimes they're the only things keeping me writing this fic.

I would like to thank my beta readers Arashinobara (a.k.a. Zhang Sizheng) and Beboots for their continuing patience with me. Also, I do not own Naruto. And I never hope to. Enjoy!

* * *

It was quiet where Kakashi was. It was so quiet that he was surrounded by the silence, so the sheer loudness of it drowned out the thoughts in his head. Although he couldn't see the sun setting through the foliage, he could feel it on his skin: a prickly, slightly clammy feeling. He estimated that it had been three hours since he had slipped away from the aftermath of the First Task.

McGonagall and Pomfrey had sent out a search convoy for him; he had seen them roving around the Forbidden Forest in groups, calling his name. They never did look up into the trees. One group even passed right under him, shining their illuminated wands into thick undergrowth and occasionally peeking under rocks.

It was only after the rush of battle with the dragon had faded that Kakashi began to feel his dread return. It was the same dread that he had felt in the Champions' tent, only now it was deeper, somehow sickly and rancid. He had created a bunshin and slipped quietly away from the crowds after the Task and wandered deeper into the Forest, so he could be alone with his thoughts.

It was there that the images of just a scant year ago began to come back to him. The fire, all around him, engulfing places he had known since birth, gradually rising up and consuming those places and their memories until he couldn't see them anymore. He remembered watching the fire with a sort of numbness, so the sting of the burning memories didn't quite penetrate the fog of his mind. By the end of that horrible day, he walked past burning people like burning buildings, and burning buildings like figments of a dream.

He remembered looking upon the Kyuubi, to which the dragon had borne so much resemblance—as though an afterthought of Kyuubi's atrocities. He remembered looking up and seeing a streak of white falling through the red and black, and watching his sensei hit the ground…

Kakashi clutched at his head, mumbling to himself. He didn't want to see those things. He didn't even want to think about thinking about them. The very thought of those memories made him sick. So he dug his fingernails into his scalp and curled his toes and feet, and he stared wide-eyed at the darkening forest so he couldn't see the Yellow Flash fall.

By the time the sun had set, Kakashi couldn't quite remember what he was trying to forget. He remembered that he was trying to forget _something_, and that he had succeeded, so now he was feeling vaguely content underneath a thin veil of lingering dread. It was the kind of content he only felt in the absence of pain once pain had become the norm. Sometimes he felt it after missions, when he could imagine no better time or place to exist than with a morphine drip in his veins after a painful injury. It was a desperate, needy kind of content.

Barely thinking, Kakashi had stretched out under the tree with his back leaning against the trunk and his legs splayed out in the crinkly leaves. He could focus on nothing but his own heavy breaths, hearing the way each one entered and exited his chest and how the undergrowth rustled with the tiny movements of his body.

Then he heard a gruff voice. "Yo, Brat."

Kakashi was startled out of his meditations. "What do you want, Pakkun?" he demanded wearily.

The tiny pug crinkled his nose offendedly. "What do _I_ want? You summoned _me_ here, Brat. To fight dragons, no less. I think maybe you owe someone an explanation?"

"Not to you," Kakashi said shortly, but he pulled Pakkun close to him all the same, so he could run his fingers through the dog's fur. "Where are the others?"

"Went home," Pakkun growled, trying not to look too pleased as Kakashi scratched that particular spot behind his ear. "It's been awhile since we've seen any action, Kakashi."

Kakashi laughed apologetically and with little humor. "There hasn't _been_ any action, Pakkun. This place…it's like the Academy all over again, except everyone uses sticks instead of kunai."

The pug screwed up his wrinkly face. "They're all throwing a fit over you, Brat, up in that castle. It was rather amusing, actually. Where's all the chakra?"

"They're wizards, they don't have any," Kakashi said tiredly. "Don't ask me to explain."

The pug looked offended again, but only for a moment. "Brat. Anyway, they gave you third place. You weren't supposed to hurt the dragon." The dog scoffed as an afterthought, as if the whole notion of kindness to animals was ridiculous to him. Kakashi appreciated the irony.

"It doesn't really matter to me," The shinobi said dismissively.

The pug nodded its head in a gesture of doglike agreement. "You never should've gotten yourself into his competition. But now that you're in…"

"Now that I'm in," Kakashi echoed in a whisper.

"You should be careful here. I smell chakra."

Kakashi nodded. "I do too. Can't tell who it is…didn't get a glimpse of them in the stands."

The dog looked at him doubtfully, "I don't like it, Kakashi. You want me to track it?"

"Can you?"

Pakkun looked reproachful. "_Can_ I? Is there anything I _can't_ do?"

The shinobi laughed affectionately and shook his head. "Don't engage him, Pakkun, whatever you do. Don't even let him know you're here."

"Will do," Pakkun agreed.

"Good." Kakashi waited. The pug didn't move. "What are you waiting for?"

"The old man talked to me earlier," Pakkun said abruptly, "Right after the match. He asked me about…well, about who the most important person in your life is."

Kakashi sat up, taken aback and rather disturbed, "What did you tell him?"

"I told him that Hatake Kakashi looks out for Number One."

"Oh?"

"Sure did, Brat. And it's true, too. He didn't seem to believe me, though. Asked me about friends, family members—he should've known better—he just kept pushing at it. I didn't tell him anything, though. Just that you were Number One on your list…I left it at that."

Kakashi pursed his lips suspiciously. "Did he say why he was asking?"

"Sure didn't, kid. He mentioned something about Gai, though, how you were getting letters from him. Seemed to have it in his head that Gai's the person you care about most." Both the pug and his master laughed heartily. Catching his breath, Pakkun gave a canine grin, "No, seriously."

"I'd kill Gai if he showed up here," Kakashi said, his voice torn between horror and amusement. "Let's see what Dumbledore would say about the matter then, eh?"

But the pug had already stopped laughing. "He wasn't done, though. After the Gai issue, he started asking about what your most prized possession is. You know what I said?"  
"What did you say, Pakkun?"

"I told him he could take his question and shove it up his ass, and then go ask you himself face-to-face."

Kakashi gaped. "You didn't."

"I did."

His face broke out in a wide grin, in spite of himself. "McGonagall will have my head for that, Pakkun. She'll call it _fostering obscenity_…she probably won't let me get within three feet of a first year after this."

Pakkun shrugged doggishly. "I do what I can, brat. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a shinobi to track. Do try to figure out why this old Headmaster fellow is gathering information on you, and for Kami's sake, brat, go get yourself cleaned up before you bleed out on the grass." With that the tiny dog shot off through the undergrowth, leaving scarcely a disturbed leaf in his wake.

A silence fell upon Kakashi after Pakkun's exit, the uneasy sort of silence which made their earlier jesting seem feeble and uncomfortable. Kakashi felt as though there were two sets of crosshairs centered on the spot between his eyes, one of them from the East and the other from the West, and if he tried to look at one of them the other would swoop in to finish him off. It didn't quite seem fair.

Story of his life.

* * *

The customary fit was thrown for Kakashi when he conceded to finally reveal himself. He walked straight out of the Forbidden Forest and into Professor Dumbledore's office, a scowl on his face and the bleeding gash on his arm barely even concealed.

"Why were you talking to my dog?" Kakashi demanded immediately.

The old Headmaster looked up, smiling warmly, and folded his hands on his desk. "Why, Kakashi-san! So nice of you to come back to us. My congratulations on your completion of the first task. He was a delightful creature, your dog." He said with a trace of amusement on his voice, "And quite a vocabulary, I must say. Did you teach him those words?"

"I taught him everything he knows," Kakashi said a bit defensively.

"He's very well-trained."

The shinobi smiled coldly. "A bit _too_ well-trained, isn't he?"

"Why, whatever do you mean?" The man asked politely.

"What did you mean when you asked Pakkun who my most important people are?"

"Just a healthy interest in one of my students, my boy. You don't seem to be making much progress here in the department of…ehm, friend-making." The old man's eyes held pity behind the folds of wrinkles.

"That's bullshit," Kakashi commented. Although, to be frank, he wasn't really sure. The old man had an uncanny knack for lying. "And you're reading my letters from Konoha?"

"Heavens, no," Dumbledore said, seeming affronted. "I only read the ones addressed to me, but I keep track of the rest…where they come from, who they're to. I'm sure you understand. I do it for all my students who I consider to be...at risk."

Kakashi let out a scoff. _At risk_. "Stay away from my dog, and Gai, and the rest of them. I swear I won't hesitate to burn this school to the ground, with you in it if you bring them into this." Kakashi wondered where his sudden hatred had come from. Dumbledore hadn't dragged anyone into anything yet, and even if he had, the mission was more important. He inwardly grimaced. The mission. _Hide in a castle and try not to poke your head into trouble, and don't come back home until the scary parts are over._ A sudden wave of nausea swept over him, and he clasped his hand to his injured arm. It seemed to have been damaged sometime during his battle with the dragon and was continuing to leak blood down his arm even hours later.

Dumbledore's eyes had filled up with concern. "Professor McGonagall won't be happy." He noted.

"What, that I taught my dog to use profanities?"

Dumbledore massaged the bridge of his nose. "No, my boy, the fact that you're bleeding down to the carpet."

"I can take care of it." Kakashi said dismissively.

"Of that I am sure," Dumbledore said, but he had a glint in his eye that suggested otherwise. And sure enough, Madame Pomfrey appeared in moments to take Kakashi away to his own personal torment.

* * *

For a week, Kakashi languished. He ghosted through all his classes, barely there at all, carefully keeping up a thin veil of apathy to keep the repressed memories that had been stirred up by the First Task from rising up to his conscious mind. Pakkun had returned a full three days after Kakashi had sent him out, his wrinkled little face ashen with disappointment. He had followed the chakra trail south a ways, past London, then west for several miles, then north again, and then the trail had been lost.

"Just seemed to go all over the place," Pakkun had told him apologetically. "Sorry, brat. Any news on the Headmaster situation?"

Kakashi had shrugged. "He won't tell me anything. I asked him about it, but he didn't give me any answers."

"He won't tell me anything. I asked him about it, but he didn't give me any answers."

And that was how the conversation had ended, a little more than a week ago, and Kakashi had decided not to dwell on the matter any further. He had briefly considered writing a letter of warning to Gai, but that seemed like it would ruin the fantastic nastiness that had been Kakashi's last letter to him, so he abandoned that idea. He also considered writing to Sandaime, but decided against it after finding that he had absolutely nothing to say.

Besides, he was worried about what the Sandaime might write back.

In the end, the decision was made for Kakashi. Gai, it seemed, hadn't been nearly as put-out by Kakashi's latest letter as he had thought, and the Monday morning the week after the First Task, Kakashi's breakfast plate was unceremoniously covered with several brown envelopes and one bright red one. The table around him went silent.

"What's that?" Kakashi demanded of the first year across the table from him.

"That's a Howler," the wide-eyed boy informed him.

Kakashi fixed him with a withering gaze. "And what does a Howler do?"

The boy was pointing a shaking finger at the bright red envelope, which was now smoking and trembling atop Kakashi's half-eaten scone. The shinobi's eyes widened in horror. He reached down to his hidden kunai holster and pulled out a sharpened knife, and lunged at the letter, but it was too late.

The bright envelope pulled itself out of the air and unfurled, and at that moment a momentous, booming voice rang out and filled up the instantly quieted great hall, and suddenly all eyes were on Kakashi.

_My momentous Eternal Rival: _

Gai's voice rang out, sounding hideous to Kakashi's ears, but thankfully he was speaking in Japanese. Kakashi looked around him, mortified, as the voice continued as if in slow motion. People were casting translating spells all around him. They might hear something Gai should not have written any second now. Kakashi's stoic expression belied his inner horror.

_I am insulted! You think I didn't see your demand to be left alone for what it was? I've known you since we were three years old, my Stupendous Rival, and I can read you like a book! I know you're actually bleeding for attention, and—_

At this point, a single, dramatic sob broke from the parchment—_I know your Fountain of Youth is shriveling and crying out in this distant land! So I have invited all of our friends to write to you, my Rival! You'll thank me later. This magic letter is called a 'Howler,' my Rival, and I think it is most refreshing! Our Glorious Leader taught me to make them. Finally the Passion of my words can be expressed to you as they were meant to be heard, as if you were standing beside me!_

People were beginning to laugh all around Kakashi. His face had turned red, and his hands were grasping at the parchment, fruitlessly trying to tear it up to end this nightmare.

_Our Glorious Leader said you have entered some sort of Competition, my Rival! Ah, what news to my ears! I am happy for you but it pains me to know that you have entered a game of Competitive Spirit while I, your Eternal Adversary, must remain across the world without the ability to share with you the right to partake in such a divine struggle of Spirited Will! So I have devised an alternate plan! Should you win this Competition, my Rival, I shall concede a loss on my record, and it shall stand at a tie, 22 to 22! But should you lose, I shall gain the two points and the record shall stand at a shameful 24 to 20, in my favor!_

_I hope it is some small comfort to your beleaguered Soul that we can still partake in our Struggle of Spirits, my Rival. But now, to my sorrow, I must deliver news of the front—_

Kakashi's eyes widened. Just as he had expected, Gai had written something the students of Hogwarts School were not to know.

_Our Blossoming Village, My Rival, has fallen under a blockade by the Village Hidden in—_

Kakashi looked around him desperately. Every eye was trained on him, every ear curiously pricked. With the last syllable of Gai's letter ringing in his ears, Kakashi clasped his hands together in a flurry of hand seals and gasped the name of a genjutsu, and a deep blanket of silence fell over the great hall as the technique settled over it.

Kakashi seized the quieted Howler and the rest of his letters, feeling the Howler vibrate in his hands as it continued to mutely scream its message, and dashed out of the great hall. The heavy blanket of silence dissipated as he closed the door.

Kakashi burst into the castle's wide entrance hall, one hand clutched over the newly vocal howler as he dashed for the door.

He barely heard the words—_four shinobi died, my Rival, and one of them was your friend Yaroichi. He was your friend, wasn't he? At least, you knew him. The funeral was this Friday. They're sending a special team to destroy the blockade. But it's estimated at fifty shinobi, and they're not sure how to go about it because Mist has the tactical advantage._

_It's getting a bit dicey, my Eternal Rival, but you mustn't worry about us. The flowering Tree of Youth that is our beloved Village will not fade! Not while The Great Green Beast still draws breath!_

_No sign of the Traitor yet. _

_I will write again, my Rival, whether you like it or not!_

The monstrous racket disappeared the moment Kakashi stepped out onto the spongy grass. The letter shuddered in his hands before shredding itself into bits.

Kakashi read the rest of his letters under a wide pine tree in the Forbidden Forest, well beyond the reach of curious eyes or ears. He had four letters in all, including the remains of Gai's howler. The other letters were from Genma, Kurenai, and Asuma. They all expressed the standard sentiments; writing about how much the village missed him and needed him, but how he was better off where he was. They asked him to write back, in a somewhat awkward and halfhearted tone that suggested Gai had been standing over them as they wrote. And they all summarized the recent relations between Konoha and its neighbors, in varying detail, but Kakashi surmised easily that tension was high between the Villages. He also understood the implied message that the present would be a wonderful time for Kakashi _not_ to be traveling abroad.

He closed the letters with a sigh and put them inside his cloak, and sat under the tree in silence for some time. Briefly he ran over in his mind what exactly Gai's Howler had said. It had been his usual gushing sentimentality, which was embarrassing in itself but not dangerous. The only dangerous word that had slipped out before Kakashi's genjutsu had been "blockade," no names or details had been revealed.

He breathed a relieved sigh. He was safe. Mortified, but safe.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

AN: Hello! Sorry for the customary delay. I'm sure you're all used to it by now, though. Anyway, read and enjoy. A usual thanks to all my readers, reviewers (returning and newcomers), and my wonderful beta-readers Zhang Sizheng and Beboots.

* * *

It was snowing at Hogwarts.

Under normal circumstances, Kakashi would have cast a shield jutsu around his body to protect the letter he was writing from the moisture, but this particular letter was for Gai. And Gai deserved to have his ink smeared, and he didn't particularly care how petty that sounded.

_My Eternal Rival, _The letter began, the characters shaky with wrath, _What kind of chuunin are you? That little stunt you pulled with the screaming letter almost compromised my entire mission! What's wrong with you? You idiot! You'll be lucky if I don't send a letter to the Village right now informing our leader of your stupidity! If you don't get discharged for this, I will personally come all the way down there and take care of you myself! And it you think for one minute that you're going to—_

And the letter continued in this fashion for some time, Kakashi's hands shaking with the effort it took to control his rage. In reality, his emotions on the matter were rather mixed. Although he was indeed furious at Gai for his foolish scheme, some part of him just didn't seem to care. In fact, there was a rather disproportionate chunk of his mind that, in retrospect, found the entire situation altogether hilarious.

"You don't know anything," Kakashi said aloud. He stared out at the snowy landscape around him, noted with satisfaction the way the ink on his letter had smeared (_serves Gai right,_ he thought), and listened to the quiet noise of snowflakes meeting the ground. And he knew very well who he was talking to: those parts of his mind which wanted to laugh aloud at the world; the stolen eye he kept hidden under a plain black headband.

"Idiot. You _would_ laugh at something like that stunt, wouldn't you?" He listened closely for an answer in the gentle, indescribable sound of snowfall, and felt a chuckle rise in his throat. "Damn you, Obito."

The letter was almost finished, so he added the final, serious touches to it. _As much as I can't stand your blundering, I need you to keep me informed on the situation at home. If you ever feel like I'm better off there…well—_he paused. Well what? It wasn't like Konoha's self-proclaimed Magnificent Green Beast could issue the orders to recall him. _—just let me know. Tell Yaroichi's kid that his father was a good Shinobi…every son deserves to know that, I guess. _A surge of grief welled up in his throat for a brief second. He hadn't realized how much that line meant to him until he had written it. _Best of luck, Gai. And if you ever pull anything like that Howler stunt again, I'll have you eviscerated, and shit on by my dogs. You have been warned._

He shook the last droplets of melted snow off the letter, folded it briskly and stowed it safely inside his cloak. Finally, he huffed a breath of hot air and watched it swirl aimlessly until it disintegrated. He was sitting out beside the Great Lake under a gloomy-looking poplar that had just enough snow on its branches to give Kakashi some paranoia about sitting under it, but not enough to send him looking for another one. This tree had always had the best view of the lake, which was caught in the ugly stage between icing over and melting, so the snow stuck to its surface in a brownish, slushy mixture, only standing purely white around the lake's edges.

Three weeks had passed since the First Task, and Kakashi had brought his Golden Egg out with him into the snow. He reached into his bag at this point, pulled it out and sat it down in the snow before him. He had already tried numerous jutsu and spells alike on the thing, but could find no clues in its glossy surface. Today he simply packed the snow around it, gazing at the aesthetic, before putting a silencing jutsu on it and cracking open the lid.

He felt the egg's vibrations as it screamed the cacophonous message at him, but as usual he could not discern any words. The shinobi sighed, defeated. Cringing in the anticipation of pain, he let the jutsu dissipate. Instantly, his ears filled up with the screeching, ringing noise and he almost felt blown away by the sheer volume of it. He snapped the egg shut, put it hastily back into his bag and hurried back up to the castle.

* * *

Hermione Granger breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with the scent of the book's old pages. She loved the smell: old parchment, old pages, old knowledge. This particular book hadn't been opened in well over five years. She could tell by the delicate grain of the dust that had gathered on it, and the way the spine crackled audibly when she opened it. _A Secret History of Magical Relations in the Recent Age, _the title read. Hermione had been eyeing this section for awhile, the one no one ever really looked twice at; the books that were new enough not to be mysterious and old enough to have lost any significance to the average student's interests.

But Hermione was not the average student.

She flipped carefully to the index and searched for any mentions of Japan. She quickly skimmed the mentioned pages but found little information of note. This time she searched for "Asia" and found at least three dozen mentioned pages. She let out a sigh.

"Hello, Hermione," a gloomy-sounding voice startled her out of her search for page 461. She looked up to see Ron's figure standing a few feet away.

"Ron! Please come sit down, I've been needing some company; Krum's been lurking around here. He's really starting to get on my nerves. If he sees you with me, then maybe he'll think…" she wrinkled her nose doubtfully. "Never mind."

"Mm." Ron shuffled into the chair across the table, seeming not to notice the other's remark. "Harry's off with his egg again," he said glumly. "I got tired of listening to it."

Hermione nodded without comment. "It's okay if you need some time away from…from the egg, Ron." She said, leaving the other object of tension unmentioned. "Here, help me look for clues about Kakashi in this book," she pushed a heavy volume at her friend.

Ron cringed. "Are you at _that_ again? Can't you just leave it alone?"

"No," Hermione said snappishly, and a little defensively. "I just think he might be hiding something."

"Well, _duh_," Ron said under his breath.

"And," Hermione continued sourly, "I think we should find out what it is in case it could be a threat to Harry."

Ron blinked. "Weren't you the one who was all for defending Kakashi? Like you said something about him just living his life and being from a different place and all that?"

"Well, yes, but that was before Harry's name miraculously appeared in the Goblet of Fire."

"Harry doesn't think Kakashi did it."

"Well," Hermione said peevishly, "_That_ doesn't mean anything. I'm not saying Kakashi-san _did_ do it, but I don't think we should excuse him from our list of possible suspects."

Ron snorted. "All right, but I'm not going to lift a finger at one of those books. I'm here for emotional support only."

"Splendid," Hermione said. Ron put his chin in his palms and the two of them fell into silence.

Nearly one and a half hours later, Hermione looked up with a sharp intake of breath. "Ron," she breathed.

The red-haired youth blinked sleepily. "What?"

"Chapter 6, 'The Eastern Theatre,' says that Eastern wizards who called themselves _Shinobi _have been inactive in world politics since early in the century—just like Professor Moody said—because of their own wars and conflicts." She looked meaningfully at her friend.

The youngest Weasley boy shrugged uninterestedly.

"Oh Ron, just listen: it says that their societies are divided into small communities called _Hidden Villages_, which each specialize in their own type of magic—or _jutsu_, this book is calling them—and their almost exclusive source of revenue comes from civilians who hire the shinobi to perform jobs and services, for pay."

"So?" Ron tossed his head indifferently. "So maybe they need to rethink their economic policies. What's the big deal?"

Hermione lowered her voice. "So they take assignments from _anyone_, Ron! Anyone who wants something _difficult_ taken care of. Can you think of anyone who might want something—or someone—taken care of within the school?"

Ron sat still for a moment, looking stymied.

The bushy-haired girl's voice crept down another notch. "What if someone's hired Kakashi to do something to Harry?"

Ron blinked in sudden realization. "No," he said confidently. "I don't think that's it. If someone wanted to off Harry…well, he'd have done something about it a long time ago, wouldn't he? I mean, he hates it here; you'd think he'd just…" Ron made a short jerking motion across his neck, looking uneasy, "He'd just do that and be done with it."

Hermione nodded eagerly. "Unless he was told to wait for a specific moment to act."

"Harry trusts him," Ron's face assumed an almost mulish cast. "I know they don't particularly like each other, but he's never tried to hurt Harry."

Hermione let out an impatient breath. "Harry has trusted lots of evil people before. Do you remember our first year?"

"Dumbledore trusts him." Ron let his statement stand on its own, unshakeable.

After looking into Ron's eyes doubtfully for a moment, Hermione dropped her gaze back to the book.

"The Shinobi in the East stopped participating in wizard affairs around the end of the nineteenth century, when the first war involving all the Hidden Villages started." Her eyes skipped through several lines, quickly absorbing the information. "But they didn't disappear from the world's stage altogether. There's a footnote here—it says that most of the history of the shinobi from the last century or so has been pieced together by the author using information from various rogue ninja who had settled in Britain. There were lots of wars…" her eyes continued to roam across the page.

Ron yawned.

"It says that the most powerful Village was Sand for some time, until a village called Leaf started to gain power."

Ron interrupted. "Get to the more recent stuff."

Hermione shot him a disparaging look. "Oh alright, Ronald. Honestly, how you cannot find this interesting is just beyond me…" she flipped two pages ahead. "In the last twenty years or so, Leaf Village and Sand Village were in a war together. It looks like most of the information came from Sand defectors—either that or Leaf is a village of barbarians." She wrinkled her nose. "It seems that the village's leader at the time sent nearly a hundred of his troops to raid the Sand capital. And it says that they…that they—the Leaf shinobi-killed every last one of the Sand's forces, and a good number of their civilians."

"That's harsh," Ron said, lifting his head from his arms.

"Mass executions, burnings…they razed the whole village and, apparently, one of its non-magical sister villages which provided trade and produce."

"Bloody hell," he murmured.

Hermione just nodded. "There's a list here for wanted war criminals. Sasuke Sarutobi, Moramito Uchiha, Kazue Uchiha, Sakumo Ha—!" she broke off abruptly.

"What?"

"Sakumo Hatake." She read with wide eyes. "A wanted war criminal. Hatake…could it possibly be one of Kakashi-san's relations?"

"Could be a really common name in Japan," Ron shrugged, but frowning nonetheless.

"Perhaps." Hermione nodded. "Do you think we should ask him?"

Ron gave her a skeptical look. "I doubt he'd be too pleased with us prying into his family history, Hermione."

"Right. Still…it would be nice to know. Even though books of this sort are known to be biased, like for instance in _Hogwarts, A History _the role of house elves in the 1911 mass food poisoning is completely overworked and clearly an attempt of the author to introduce an anti-elf sentiment among the students, perpetuating the cycle of—"

Sensing that his friend was on the verge of a full-fledged tirade, Ron interrupted. "You've said, Hermione. I know all about it."

"Right," she said, seeming to brush off Ron's dismissal. "So it's not completely unreasonable to assume that this book contains misinformation. Still…a war criminal? What if it _is_ one of Kakashi-san's relations?"

"Well," Ron said, a little breathlessly, "If it is, it certainly doesn't say anything good about his trustworthiness, does it?"

* * *

The next day, Kakashi noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione looking at him rather strangely. He just rolled his eyes and added just a sliver of Fire Slug intestine to the roiling, olive-green substance in his cauldron. The smell changed dramatically, but in a good way, and Kakashi knew that it was enough. He stirred the ingredient in, exactly three times counter-clockwise, and then sat back in his chair and began to doodle in the margins of his parchment. It was something he had found to be endlessly vexing for the greasy-haired professor who seemed to hate him so much already that a little doodling couldn't possibly make things much worse.

The same greasy-haired professor walked by Kakashi's station at that moment, his lip curled contemptuously. "Hatake," he said in a voice almost dripping with poison, "I see you've finished your potion."

Kakashi smirked. Weeks ago, Professor Snape would have made him taste it himself before the class, just hoping something painful and deforming would come out of it. He had since learned that Kakashi's potions were always perfect, every time, and that there was no point in keeping his hopes up.

But Snape, being Snape, had to find fault with _something_. Predictably, he fell upon the doodles in Kakashi's margins. "Would you care to share your artistic talents with the class, Hatake?"

Kakashi shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't call it _talent_, Professor, but I'm glad _you _think so." He held his parchment up and swung it around so the whole class could see the stick-figure drawing of Snape dangling upside down from a tree, complete with polka-dotted boxers and angry steam pouring from his ears. The class sniggered uncontrollably, poor Neville Longbottom struggling to bite his tongue to avoid turning the professor's wrath upon himself.

Snape turned red, "Hatake, detention—!"

But Kakashi cut him off. "Sorry sir, McGonagall's got me booked on those for the next four months. I'd estimate that your soonest opening will be sometime around August. Sorry." He shrugged sympathetically, gave a mirthless smile, and gathered his things. "Now I really must be going. I learned how to summon a television yesterday and my favorite sitcom is almost on." He bowed low, flourishing his hand as he did so, and stalked out the door before Snape could say another word.

The silence lasted all the way until the end of the hall, but Kakashi could still hear Snape's thundering voice shouting a few choice obscenities after him. He just grinned.

He proceeded up the spiral staircase, stopping several stairs from the top as his sensitive ears picked up the sounds of shoe on stone. After so many months of living without chakra, Kakashi had learned to sense people's presence without it almost as effortlessly as if they had been genin. Besides, these two particular people had been following him around as of late.

"Shh—he's coming." Sure enough, it was Fred Weasley's voice.

There was the sound of an elbow colliding with something fleshy, and a stifled cry of pain. "Stupid! He's probably heard us by now." That was George, of course. Kakashi rolled his eyes. He put his hands together for the translocation jutsu and left the two brothers alone. He was sure that, seconds later, they would barrel down the staircase expecting to catch an unguarded ninja, scream with the anguish of their disappointment, and promptly begin plotting the next way to corner him.

But at the moment, Kakashi had other things to worry about. For at that very moment, Professor McGonagall, flanked by Rita Skeeter and several Tournament Officials, was planning the announcement of one of the Triwizard Tournament's most valued and horrifying traditions: the Yule Ball.

* * *

It was not a particularly uncommon occurrence in the middle of the night for one to notice a rather large-statured man stomping through the forest, often bearing some manner of dead animal. This night was no exception, for the time had come for Hagrid to bring his Thestral herd their weekly treat of bloody steak. The half-giant moved among the spectral animals, murmuring affectionately to each before offering it the whiskey-marinated steak.

But Hagrid's mind was on other matters. Hermione had been down to his hut that day, bearing a book that looked entirely too large for Hagrid, let alone the comparatively diminutive girl. She had pointed out a passage with a name bearing a striking resemblance to Kakashi Hatake's.

"Can't be," Hagrid had dismissed at first, wrinkling his nose at the descriptions of violence this _Leaf_ village had inflicted upon its neighbors. But after a brief and rather one-sided debate in which Hermione pointed out some mildly disturbing implications, Hagrid's opinion began to sway.

"He always was a funny one," the half-giant recalled the dialog they had shared. "I remember when I picked 'im up t' bring 'im to the Leaky Cauldron. Looked t' be a troubled lad. Glarin' daggers all the way along."

Hagrid had never liked the Hatake boy after that first meeting, never mind that he shared Hagrid's unquestionable rapport with animals. There was just something off about him—something sinister. Like he had done and seen things sane men weren't supposed to.

The half-giant absent-mindedly fed another Thestral, narrowly escaping the loss of a few fingers. It was then, among the slurps and crunches of the Thestrals' feast, that he heard a voice.

"—Stupid to even be in the vicinity." The voice was rusty and familiar.

Hagrid blinked, hushing at the Thestrals.

"I was bored," came the terse reply. "What do you expect?"

"I expect you to stay with your master, not go traipsing off to watch the show." the first voice growled. Hagrid's mouth opened slightly as he recognized the voice as belonging to Alastor Moody. He took a tentative step forward, but something in the second man's tone made him stop.

"My master!" the man spat with a sharp edge of derision. "That snake? He'll never be my master."

There came a rustling of clothes, barely perceptible through the trees, and the abrupt clanking of metal. "Don't speak badly of the master, shinobi. You signed into his service, and now you are expected to serve him." Hagrid frowned heavily. That didn't sound at all like something Moody would say.

The second man scoffed. There was the sound of something being unscrewed.

"Put that filthy stuff away." Moody said.

"You should talk," came the muttered reply. "Besides, there's something you neglected to tell me, eh?"

"Oh, and what's that?"

"There's a shinobi in this competition."

There was a momentary pause in their dialog. "I didn't think it worth mentioning."

"A very special shinobi, too." The second man said in a voice that was almost sing-song.

"What's it to you?" Moody grunted.

There was an indignant pause. "You honestly think I wouldn't recognize him? Just because you changed his hair and called him a different name? You underestimate me, Barty."

"Quiet," Moody growled. Hagrid took a small step back, eyes widening. "He shouldn't matter to you. He's just another fool student, some folly of Dumbledore's."

"He's a Leaf shinobi. Worse, a _Hatake_." There was a disgusted note in the last word.

"I don't give a damn who he is." Moody said. "I tried to keep him out of your way because I know your kind, Ihara." He spat the last word. "Always hell-bent on revenge, driving yourselves halfway to destruction."

The second voice replied calmly, without skipping a beat. "Seems like a bit of an unfair accusation, considering what _your_ master lives for."

Moody was clearly annoyed. "It doesn't matter. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named needs you to fulfill the terms of your contract, not go chasing after some decades-old war grudge."

"It's not _my_ contract," the man said suddenly. "You know damn well what happened. I was part of the package deal."

"Package or not, you seem to have bound yourself to your sister and she's bound herself to my master."

The second man, whose name seemed to be Ihara, interrupted angrily. "And I hope to break that bond as soon as possible, as soon as I can convince my sister that her infatuation with that pig Morishito isn't worth the initiation into a cult."

"Careful, Ihara." Moody's voice came out cold and smooth. "I wouldn't let Master _or _Morishito hear you making that sort of talk."

Ihara muttered an obscenity. There was the unscrewing sound again, and a pause as Ihara drank something.

"Reeks of alcohol," Moody muttered.

"Shut it. And you know what's terribly funny about this whole thing?" Iraha said, raising his voice.

"Enlighten me," came Moody's growl.

"The Hatake is going to _beat_ Potter. And you realize that, don't you? How do you plan to take care of that, hmm? I'd be glad to be the one to pick him off. Or we could hand him over to Morishito's boy. See what he does with him."

Moody growled.

"What?" Ihara said, sounding slightly defensive. "It'd take care of your problem, wouldn't it? And it would be no skin off my back."

"I'm having something arranged," Moody replied testily.

Ihara snorted. "Like what? Some sort of garden-variety troll? A werewolf, perhaps? If you're going to try to kill the Konoha scum, at least make it interesting for him."

"You won't be the one to get rid of him." Moody was beginning to sound as though he was losing patience with the conversation. "And that's because you can be traced back to my Master. If you've forgotten that, you're a worse fool than I took you for."

"I haven't _forgotten_, I just can't bring myself to care," came the offhanded reply.

There was a momentary flurry of movement, and a short laugh.

"Don't pull that silly magical stick on me, boy. You know very well I can have you gutted before you utter the second syllable." There was no reply from Moody, so Ihara continued. "Anyway, as for this Hatake problem, I can assure you I won't seek him out. I don't have a quarrel with him on the level that, say, Morishito's boy does. But if I happen to cross his path, there will be blood."

"I have no doubt." Moody said drily. "Luckily he won't have much blood left in good time. Let it be and go back where you're supposed to be. And keep that overgrown bird of yours away from the pubs."

Ihara made a mockingly disappointed sound. "I just hope your garden gnome gets to the Hatake before word of him accidently reaches Morishito's boy's ears."

"I do hope _your_ words won't be the ones reaching his ears, Ihara." Moody said dangerously. "Wands or not, you know very well you're outmatched. I'd advise you to be more careful."

Ihara scoffed loudly. "Duly noted. We have a little spy, by the way. Well, a large one. He's been listening from nearly the beginning."

Hagrid gasped loudly, and took a step back. His Thestral herd had disappeared sometime during the conversation. Hagrid put his hand near his hip, feeling for the handle of his pink umbrella.

"Stupid brute," Moody murmured. There were heavy footsteps approaching him. "It's the idiot groundskeeper."

"Want me to deal with him?" Ihara asked in a disturbingly casual voice.

Moody seemed to sigh. "What part of _discretion_ do you not understand? Stand back. See how a more civilized race deals with its pests." There was a shout of _"Obliviate,"_ and a bright light that illuminated the forest brilliantly.

The next morning, Hagrid awoke in his hut without the slightest inkling of what he had overheard the previous night.

* * *

A/N: I have issues with the last part of the chapter, so if it didn't sit well with you, you're not the only one. Unfortunately I can't figure out quite how to fix it, and I'm far too tired to rewrite it or do something equally drastic. So there you have it. Review, if the mood strikes you. It would be most appreciated. Next chapter will be more interesting.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

AN: So it's been over a year since I started posting this story, and it's getting to be a bit more giant than I'd originally predicted. Well, the story is moving along a bit faster now, which will hopefully speed things up. I'm SO sorry about the HUGE delay…you know the story. Homework, college applications, life.

I was originally going to have the Yule Ball included in this chapter, but then I realized that it would be really long and that it would take me really long to get out, too, so next chapter will be that. This chapter is kind of filler-ish at the most, and I hope that you won't be dissatisfied after such a long wait. Please continue to be patient with me! My focus has shifted but this story remains to be on my to-do list. Thanks to everyone who is supporting me, especially my reviewers and my beta readers Zhang Sizheng and Beboots.

* * *

Kakashi sat under the same droopy poplar tree under which he had sat weeks ago, contemplating the same golden egg on the same bank of the Great Lake. He was grumpy and wet, despite the steady flow of chakra that wafted the falling snow gently away from his body. As he considered the egg sitting so innocently in his lap, his fingers twitched towards the egg's latch.

"Don't you open that thing while I'm up here," a deep voice rang out from somewhere above. Kakashi ignored the pug where he perched on a snow-laden tree bough above Kakashi's head.

"If you have something useful to say, Pakkun, say it." The shinobi snapped. "Otherwise, go away."

Pakkun gave an indignant snort. "I came to tell you about that shinobi you've had me following. I found their bird."

Kakashi took a soft breath. "Yes?"

"Yes. He's a summon, obviously…and he was drunk." The pug chuckled. "I chatted with him a bit…"

"What did he tell you?"

"Nothing much." The tree branch shuddered delicately as Pakkun lifted a leg to scratch behind his ear. A sprinkling of white fell down. "His name is Katsuke. He says his master's name is Ihara Yukichi. You ever heard of him?"

Kakashi shook his head no. "Did he mention a village?"

"Not a word. He just said that he likes Britain…he enjoys the trees."

Kakashi grunted. "Did he tell you his mission?"

"He wasn't that drunk," Pakkun gave his bark-like laugh. "Didn't tell me where he was headed, either, and I didn't risk following him."

Kakashi stroked his chin with one cold hand. His fingers felt clubby and foreign in the cold. "Will he remember you, Pakkun? I hope you weren't recognized."

"Don't think so poorly of me, Hatake," Pakkun quipped, ears flopping as he shook his head. "No. I hid my chakra signature. He didn't realize I was a summon…too drunk. He says dogs talk to him all the time, anyway."

Kakashi snorted and wondered how many talking dogs were running around Britain. His fingers drummed across the egg's icy surface.

"So what now?" Pakkun prompted after a moment of silence between them.

"Now we wait." Kakashi's fingers stopped drumming. "If they come looking for me, I'll deal with them at that time. If they don't…well, it'll be a non-issue. You don't have to follow them anymore."

Pakkun seemed satisfied, but he didn't leave. Kakashi ignored him. Soon enough, just as Kakashi knew it would, Pakkun's voice lofted maddeningly down from the branch, "So 'Kashi, buddy…all ready for the big dance?"

Kakashi found temporary solace in the mental image of himself smashing the pug's treacherously grinning face in. He stiffened. "I'm not going to the dance."

"You have to go," the nin-dog said in a sing-song voice. "_And_ you have to bring a date."

Kakashi scowled and said nothing.

Pakkun grew frustrated at his master's reticence, and he stomped his tiny leg with surprising strength. The branch shuddered and a cascade of fell snow heavily on Kakashi's head. "Pakkun—!" Kakashi felt the anger boiling in his chest. He lurched to his feet to clear himself of the stinging snow. "Damnit, Pakkun."

"Tell me who you're going to bring to that dance." The pug demanded.

Kakashi sneered at him and reached towards the egg. The smirk disappeared immediately from the pug's face.

"Kakashi—don't you open tha—!" but it was too late. The lid opened with a hideous shriek, knocking Pakkun off his perch and into a pile of snow. A small pop and a sudden puff of smoke exploded from the snow as Pakkun transported away.

The shinobi winced as he snapped the lid shut. He had never been able to discern any sort of message from the cacophony, and this time was no different.

"I'm done with this," Kakashi murmured, staring at the egg with pure animosity. He lined up his foot with the egg, drew back, and drop-kicked the egg as far as he could. It sailed several yards over the pristine snow before it dropped out of the sky and created a neat, dark hole in the ice as it sunk into the Great Lake. Kakashi brushed the snow from his hands and sat back, suddenly feeling very liberated.

* * *

Kakashi had survived many things in his life. He had watched his first and only friend die under a pile of rocks; he had killed hundreds of people, innocent or otherwise, he had been burned and cut and had his bones crushed. But it was days like these which truly made Kakashi wish to disappear.

His eyes watered maddeningly as he suppressed the urge to sneeze: all he could see in the darkness of the closet was a short band of light, glimmering with dust, that shone from the crack underneath the door. He could hear the quieting noises of his pursuers somewhere to his right, yet he dared not breathe a sigh of relief.

It was less than a week until the madness that was the Yule Ball. Kakashi thought the whole affair was a terrible idea, and that McGonagall should be ashamed of herself for putting Kakashi at such risk for bodily harm. He had been minding his business on the way out of his Potions detention when he had been waylaid by a group of women all clamoring to be his date.

It had started as one. She was a fairly nice, pretty girl who had asked Kakashi shyly nearly as soon as it had become publicly known that Kakashi was single. He had turned her down without even bothering to remember her name. Then there began a steady flow of admirers. Kakashi found his breakfast table inundated with letters every morning (and none of them from Gai), he found tiny pink firecrackers that exploded in heart-shaped sparks flying at him whenever a teacher's back was turned, and he could have barely a moment's peace in the common room. He also noticed that Harry Potter could be seen grinning at him rather smugly on almost every one of these occasions.

Kakashi let out a breath as the last of the mob's sounds faded in the distance. It was all rather confusing to him. He didn't consider himself to be in the upper echelons of the eligibility scale—if he did, why would he wear a mask?—and he had certainly never done anything to project to his classmates that he was interested in acquiring a significant other. He shuddered. There was a reason why Kakashi didn't do such things. It would be irresponsible at best—criminal at worst—to allow himself to put someone else at risk.

The itch inside his nose gave a final, dying twinge, and this time Kakashi felt it appropriate to release his sneeze. He waved at the dust caught in the band of light and clutched at the mask over the bottom part of his face. His heart sunk as the band of light was interrupted by two foot-sized shapes.

Then whoever was on the other side of the door flung it open, blinding Kakashi with light. He didn't bother to teleport away. They would only find him again.

"Hatake?" a female voice said lightly, tinged with amusement. "What are you doing in the closet?"

"Hiding from you," Kakashi groused. He got to his feet and made to push past the girl, who he vaguely recognized as Ginny Weasley, the sister of Ron Weasley. "Why are _you_ following me, then?"

Ginny looked affronted, but her subtle blush did not escape the shinobi's notice. "I'm _not_," she insisted, "I was following my friend Katie Glen, and _she_ was following you."

"Charming," the shinobi wiped his nose. "I'll be leaving now."

"Wait," Ginny protested. She reached out to touch his arm, but seemed to think better of it halfway through the gesture. Her hand dropped limply back to her side. Kakashi noticed and gave her a look that just bordered on a sneer. "Ron wanted me to talk to you," she said finally.

"Why can't he talk to me himself?" Kakashi demanded, brushing a layer of dust from his knees as he did so.

Ginny's voice faltered. "He thought you wouldn't want to talk to him. Anyway…he wanted me to ask you about…well," she trailed off.

"Spit it out," Kakashi felt another sneeze coming on.

"Well you know Hermione," Ginny began, but Kakashi cut her off.

"No I don't."

"Well, if you knew her you'd know that she's very inquisitive."

Kakashi nodded. "Too inquisitive, I'd say. It's bad for her. And you."

Ginny blinked the comment away. "She chanced upon a book that had your name in it…Hatake, I mean. It said something about…Hatake."

Kakashi felt his stomach drop, but his face remained perfectly expressionless.

"Hatake Sakumo, to be exact." Ginny seemed to notice the very subtle change on Kakashi's face as a wave of nausea suddenly overtook him. "It said he was a war criminal, Kakashi—Kakashi-san, I mean. The book…it apparently said some things less than flattering about your family." A look of alarm crossed her face, and she quickly amended, "Not about you personally, but your city."

Kakashi snarled. "What?"

"I mean—it just said that…well, it said some things that made Hermione think you aren't trustworthy, nothing particularly _bad_—" she trailed off.

"Granger is prying into things she didn't have any business prying into," he pushed past the girl and started towards the Gryffindor common room, but Ginny hurried along at his elbow.

"Please don't be mad!" she entreated. "Hermione's just worried about Harry! That's all it is!"

Kakashi whirled around. "What's Potter got to do with any of this?"

Ginny gave him a confounded look. "Everything! You know about him, don't you?"

"I fail to understand how my family—my _village_, damnit—has anything to do with Harry Potter."

Ginny seemed to sense that she was fighting a losing battle. "Please don't be mad at them, Kakashi, Hermione was just trying to do what's best for Harry. She had every right to be suspicious!"

Kakashi rolled his eyes. This whole lot of wizards would make terrible shinobi. Hermione apparently had a hunch about Kakashi's trustworthiness, and she sent a friend to go to Kakashi himself for reassurance of his moral fortitude? "Go away, Weasley!" Kakashi yelled back. "And if Granger really wants to know, you can tell her that I don't give half a rat's ass about Harry Potter. For you to assume that—that everything I do has something to do with him—well that's just pretentious, isn't it?"

By the time he found them in common room, some of Kakashi's anger had ebbed. But what he had lost in anger was made up for in cold, gnawing worry. No one was supposed to know where he was from. And the fact that they had found his father…Kakashi tried not to think about it. As far as he was concerned, his father did not exist and had nothing to do with this mission.

He kicked the door to the common room open with a bang. The face of every student within turned towards him synchronously. "You—" he flung a finger towards Hermione, "I need to talk to you."

Harry rose up from the armchair next to her, looking defensive. "What do you want with Hermione?" he demanded.

"It doesn't concern you," the shinobi said.

"Yeah, well maybe I don't like your tone of voice," Harry countered.

Kakashi rolled his eyes. He led the two of them up to the boys' dormitory—ignoring Hermione's qualms about her presence there—("It's forbidden!")—and told them both to sit. They did not.

"What's this Ginny said about you reading up on me?" he demanded at length.

"I was just reading," Hermione said, seeming to puff up defensively. "Forgive me if you've never tried it before."

"Ah, but you weren't just reading, you were reading about me. And Granger, I really don't appreciate that."

"Not about you particularly," Hermione attempted to defend herself.

"No, but you were reading about things that led you to some very sensitive information about me," without knowing it, Kakashi's fist was lingering down the side of his leg towards the kunai holster that was hidden on his thigh. Harry saw, and suddenly his wand was out.

"Calm down, Kakashi," he said coldly. "You're obviously upset, but how about we talk it out like adults before you do something stupid?"

Kakashi gave him a nasty look, but his hand relaxed all the same. Harry lowered his wand. "Hermione-san," the shinobi said, struggling to keep his voice level, "Ginny Weasley told me you were researching my village. I assume she wasn't talking about Kyoko."

Hermione swallowed. "Really Kakashi, I already knew it was a fake village." She bluffed. "There's…you didn't need to hide it from us."

"There's a _reason_ why I used a fake village," Kakashi snarled. He felt his Sharingan pulsing behind his headband, and wondered if the situation warranted him pulling it out. "And it didn't have anything to do with you," he jabbed his finger at Harry. "You'd better tell me everything you've read."

Hermione nodded eagerly, and she began to rattle off the facts. "The book had a few pages dedicated to eastern wizards—shinobi—and it was talking about a conflict between a village called Leaf and one called Sand. It said some unflattering things about Leaf, and what they did to the Sand during this conflict…it had a list of war criminals. Your family name was on it."

"Hatake Sakumo?" Kakashi said. The name sounded unfamiliar and bitter on his tongue. His voice nearly cracked as he was saying it, but he managed to remain emotionless. He hadn't said the name in so long…it almost felt like meeting an old friend many years after an estranging argument.

"Yes, that was it."

"What about it?"

"I…" Hermione trailed off for a moment, "I didn't want to believe that you could be associated with such a violent culture. War criminals and such…"

Harry looked alarmed at this. "War criminals?"

Kakashi began to laugh quietly. "War criminals. I'm much more than _associated_ with them, Granger, in case you were wondering." A lump was rising in his throat. He wondered how many lists _his_ name was on. "But the funny thing about history books are…you never really get the whole story, do you? I bet the guy who wrote that book you read—or at least the shinobi he got his information from—is a war criminal on one of _my_ village's lists. It's all rather subjective."

Hermione felt a surge of questions rising in her throat. _Kakashi, are you saying _you're_ a war criminal? _But she had to settle for just one. "Who is Hatake Sakumo, then?"

"It doesn't matter," Kakashi said shortly. He was half-turned away from her now, backing away without realizing it. His thigh hit the soft surface of the bed behind him.

"Is he a relation of yours?"

Kakashi nearly exploded on the spot, his hands had clenched into fists again, so tight he could feel the little half-moon marks forming on his palm. But he didn't explode. Instead he looked Hermione in the eye and said very carefully, "There's no one named Hatake Sakumo in _my_ family."

The girl seemed to sense that the conversation was over, so she nodded and began to turn away. But Harry's gaze lingered, recognizing a familiar pain in Kakashi's sagging figure. He opened his mouth to say something, but thought better. He too turned away.

Kakashi stopped them. "Granger, I don't want you to tell anyone what you read in that book. About my village…or the war criminal list. If it gets out, bad things will happen. I'm going to leave it at that."

Hermione just nodded and hurried out of the dormitory, with Harry moving hesitantly behind her. As soon as they were gone, Kakashi allowed himself to sag down onto the bed behind him. So Hermione had discovered his hidden village of origin. Some part of him wondered why he hadn't simply erased that memory with his Sharingan, but the greater part of him knew the answer. Somehow, he had been waiting for someone to find out. The sooner the information got out, the sooner Orochimaru would show up at his door and the sooner he would be able to go home. _Or die. Whichever comes first._


	24. Chapter 24

Hi! Well, here I am. Sorry for the massive delay. For those of you who had lost hope in this ever being updated, I'm sorry to have revitalized your hope, because it's probable that my updates aren't coming any sooner (they won't stop coming, though). But maybe you can motivate me to update faster!

I've been getting mixed criticism about my portrayal of Kakashi and the angst level. Some people want more angst, others say it's too much. I can't please everyone but I'm doing what I can. This chapter will be a mix. Angst is heavy in the beginning part, the middle will be more humorous, and the end will have a precursor to action for the next chapter.

Here's chapter 24, I do hope it doesn't disappoint. It's really long, so it shouldn't!

* * *

Kakashi was in an empty and expressionless place. He imagined he heard noises and saw colors that he couldn't really hear or see; he saw his fingers curled into fists as if they belonged to something separate from himself. By contrast, he was somewhat aware of the pressure of his closed eyelids on his eyes—although he could clearly see his adversaries before him—and he could feel the itch of something, a leaf perhaps, on his ankle.

But there weren't any leaves where Kakashi was. He was standing in a manicured garden, one that he vaguely remembered from sometime long ago. He wasn't sure if he had seen it last in some distant year of his childhood or if was a creation entirely of his dreams. There was a stately house behind the garden, but Kakashi couldn't see it. He knew it was there, though, towering over him under ancient twisted trees which had always seemed too venerable and dignified to climb. That was behind him. Before him stretched a fog-choked expanse of grass and shrubs and insignificant, dried-up things.

And then there was the masked demon. It was grotesquely thin and had bony, stretched limbs that seemed twice as long as those of a normal human being. The figure stooped under the weight of its own elongated arm. It was wearing an ANBU mask, or something like it. Kakashi knew this not because he was looking right at the creature (he wasn't) but because it was _his_ demon. He had created it, though he couldn't bring himself to look at it. If he looked at it, he would have to fight it. The weapons in his hands were useless; his fingers were far too numb to grasp them properly.

Kakashi turned and stumbled away—he stumbled because his eyes were closed and he couldn't see very much around him. He knew where he was, though, as he navigated around the turns and corners of the old house. Between the blackness and the reeling, he caught glimpses of the masked demon. It was coming for him.

As the world outside Kakashi's body reeled as he lurched towards the woods—there was something holding his feet down, as if they were made of lead—his mind reeled with a terror he had felt outside his dreams many times before, but not so many times recently. He felt the swelling of his chest, gasping at the air although Kakashi could feel that his chest was moving hardly at all, the burning of his throat as the pressure in his chest threatened to overflow to the screams he knew he would not really utter. Most of all, he felt the straining of his eyelids against themselves, the helpless clasping of them as a Kakashi who knew he should be somewhere else begged his eyes to open.

Kakashi ripped through the trees. He could feel the demon's presence behind him, just as he could feel that of the house before. He seemed to fly at a speed that was breakneck even for a ninja, but his chest wasn't swelling in exhilaration—the exhilaration of the hunter—but in the sickly terror that was someone who could only imagine the pain that would come if he failed.

The shinobi burst from the trees into a clearing with a dirty brown lake in the middle of it, with a crooked dock made of splintered, rotten planks stretching over the water. He imagined shapes moving barely under the surface of the water—creatures that stood between himself and the tiny, grimy rowboat at the end of the dock. And yet he could feel the pressing of the demon behind him, so he sprinted forward, bounding across the dock that seemed so much longer now that he had to cross it, and when he reached the boat at the end he leapt inside and pushed away before he realized his shoes were full of something gritty. He looked to his feet and saw that the rowboat was filled with trash that came nearly to his waist. Empty sake bottles and bright colored candy wrappers, chewing gum foil and moth-eaten sweaters. The boat was weighted down so its rim floated horrifyingly just a few inches from the sinister water. He began to throw the items overboard, vaguely aware that the demon was at the shoreline along with several other figures that had joined it around the circumference of the lake. He dug deeper through the pile of trash, now pulling out old shoes, travel satchels, bottles with liquor still sloshing around them, a white robe with red flames at the hems—he threw them all overboard. In the next handful he scooped up a dozen pearly teeth, a bag of rations, a handful of ashes—ashes, dust—and when he tried to throw it overboard it clung to his hands and coated his fingers.

He heard a squalling, and looked to the dock. At the lake's edge there stood an impressive half-ring of vaguely-human creatures with parodied masks, but sitting at the end of the dock was an infant chewing on orange goggles between piercing sobs.

Kakashi yelled at the baby. "Tell me how to kill the demons!"

The infant stopped squalling, looked at him with empty eyes, and opened its mouth to inhuman proportions, and one enraged, drawn out syllable escaped its maw, "Traaaaaash!"

* * *

Kakashi wrenched his eyes open. To his right, a Kage Bunshin in his image peered at him through one slitted eye.

"What time is it?" Kakashi demanded. His voice shook slightly from the remnants of his dream.

The bunshin simply shrugged, a contrary expression settling darkly over its face.

"Idiot. You were supposed to wake me up." The shinobi got to his feet and brushed the debris from his robes. He peered over the trees in the direction of the school, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the clock tower. To the east, a rim of darkness was beginning to appear near the horizon. "Damn it."

"The clock tower just rang six o'clock," the bunshin growled. "And you are _not _putting me in a dress. I don't care if _you_ do it, but there is no _way—!_"

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't think the school would react well if I choose to appear at the Yule Ball with myself as my date." Kakashi said quietly. He heaved a sigh. "The ball starts at seven, we'd better get this nonsense started."

"What were you dreaming about?" The bunshin asked suddenly.

"Nothing," Kakashi replied.

"Liar. I saw you shaking." Suddenly, the doppelganger grinned. "Was it about Obito? I wouldn't mind being Obito, you know."

Kakashi rolled his single eye. "You are not being Obito. Now come here."

The Kage Bunshin scowled as it positioned itself before Kakashi, arms crossed and a hostile expression gracing its masked face. "You've avoided the question."

"You know the dream."

"You've had it before?"

Kakashi heaved a sigh as he formed the symbols for a Henge. His fingers moved more slowly than he would have liked through the signs. "Shit. I'm getting rusty."

"You're getting _lazy_," the bunshin corrected. "And hell, who would blame you? There's no reason to get out of bed in the morning anymore. And no reason to go to this ridiculous ball."

"Henge," Kakashi said, and watched as his bunshin morphed into the image of a generic girl around his age. "You know as well as I that McGonagall will have me skinned if I dodge this event."

The bunshin frowned as it morphed again into a more specific image, this one with darker hair and eyes. "Shit, Kakashi, lighten up," the bunshin quipped, "could you _choose_ a more nondescript mate?"

"She's supposed to be nondescript," Kakashi pointed out with a distinct tone of disinterest. "People are going to wonder about her, you know. I wouldn't be surprised if her picture ends up in the paper."

"Mm." The bunshin hummed in acquiescence. It sighed, crossing its arms angrily over a growing bust. "Don't get too excited there, asshole. So what's my name, and where did you find me?"

"Your name is…hell. Astrid. Cornwall."

The bunshin sniffed. "Astrid Cornwall. Spectacular."

"You come from Glasgow. You'll have to do the accent."

The girl, who now had auburn hair pulled back in a tight bun, huffed.

"We met last summer when I was there. I guess we fell in love or something trite like that."

"You don't even find me attractive," the bunshin pointed out, noticeably peeved. "At least do her hair better."

"You do it, I'm done." Kakashi said. He gathered up his winter cloak from the ground and slung it across his thin shoulders. "You have one hour to get your shit together. And you'll have to find a dress."

A very unlady-like look of outrage crossed the bunshin's face. "We agreed I could just henge a dress!"

"Well I changed my mind," Kakashi shot back nastily. "There's at least one person at that ball who's going to notice that I'm dancing around with a mirror image of myself, Astrid."

The bunshin's eyes narrowed. "Don't call me that."

"At least it might throw him off a bit if you're wearing a real dress."

"You realize that you're saying you have a girly face, don't you?" Astrid pointed out.

Kakashi just scowled. "You're the one who gets to wear the dress. We should start back towards the castle, now. I need to change, and you need to find some clothes, do your hair, do your makeup, and change." He smiled nastily. "Good luck."

The bunshin flicked a middle finger up at the shinobi before darting off after him towards the castle.

"Where have you been? You're a mess."

Kakashi barely spared Harry Potter a glance as he slid into their dormitory just a few minutes later. "Dragging my date out of the woods," he replied dully. Things between them had been even more strained, if possible, since Harry and Hermione had seen fit to dig around in his culture and slap him in the face with what they found there. Even so, the two of them seemed to be making replenished, if more guarded, attempts to talk to him recently.

Harry chuckled a bit, as though he wasn't sure if Kakashi was joking or not. "Well… you'd better get ready. You only have forty-five minutes."

Kakashi threw a disparaging glance towards the other boy, noticing the very well-fitting and flattering dress robes that seemed to bring out the green in his eyes. Kakashi sniffed and shook a few spare drops of snow and mud from his shoes. "Spiffy. Where's your friend Ron?"

Harry and Ron had recently reconciled with each other, seemingly united by the common horror of attempting to find dates for the Yule Ball. Kakashi was almost glad he didn't have to bother with that. Almost, but not completely, as it would be better if he could just skip the whole ball affair entirely.

"He's with Fred and George," Harry said, a look of guilt creeping over his countenance. "They're comparing dress robes."

"Mm." Kakashi allowed himself a pitying smirk. "Sucks to be poor, doesn't it?"

Harry blinked at the other boy's brusqueness. "Yeah. Don't let Ron hear you talking like that."

Kakashi was tempted to say, _don't worry, I'm not so interested in maintaining the tenuous bond that keeps us on speaking terms as you are. _But he didn't, because it seemed to him suddenly that perhaps it would be much less of a struggle to live in the god-forsaken castle if he was on speaking terms with some of the people living in it. Besides, he needed someone to help him figure out what exactly he was required to do and how he was supposed to be at the ball. He shuddered. He hated needing people.

"So you found a date?"

"Mm." Kakashi grunted, looking himself over in the mirror. The small visible portion of his face was smudged with dirt and reddened by the cold. "Met her in Glasgow last summer." Or something.

Harry looked surprised at this. "Glasgow? I didn't know you'd ever been to Scotland before."

Kakashi threw him an irritated glance through the mirror. "You make it sound like I've never left Japan."

Harry shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "Well, you never let on that you had. I just assumed…"

Kakashi rolled his eyes.

An uneasy silence ensued in which Harry shifted and sat on his hands. "You know," he said, sounding as though he was about to make a very reasonable suggestion, "You don't have to be so angry all the time. I'm just saying."

Kakashi stifled his immediate scowl and turned around coolly, casting his cloak aside. "Angry? How am I being angry?" It would be better not to ask, he knew. Perhaps it was a morbid curiosity, or some urge to be confrontational, that prompted him to do so anyway.

Harry shrugged. "You just seem angry. All the time."

The shinobi scoffed. "You'd be angry too, if you had to deal with you people all the time." He turned to his dresser dug around in it for the dress-robes he had bought months ago at Diagon Alley and not so much as looked at since. He compared them briefly to the ones Harry was wearing.

"Now you're just being contrary," Harry said huffily, in the sort of morally superior way that suggested Harry wasn't going to put up with Kakashi's petulance, but it was going to be for Kakashi's own good that he didn't put up with it. "I'm just saying that you could stand to make some sort of effort to make a bad situation into a better one."

They were both silent for awhile, the sound of Kakashi rummaging through his drawers breaking the silence. The pain of his earlier dream lingered on his breath.

"Potter," Kakashi said suddenly, as though an interesting thought had just occurred to him, "Have you ever seen someone die?"

The breath caught in Harry's throat. "What sort of question is that?" he replied darkly.

The shinobi ignored the question. "It's a terrible thing, to die."

The silence hung heavily.

"I suppose so," Harry said eventually.

"Do you fear death?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes." There was a long silence as Kakashi disappeared behind a curtain to change into his dress robes. "Do you?"

"Certainly," Came the casual reply. "Every day."

They both listened to the distant rumble of students somewhere else in the castle, the hum of activity that preceded the ball seeming to accentuate the silence between them.

Kakashi seemed to be thinking. "I fear it, but when you live in fear of something long enough… you start to look forward to it, Potter. Once it's an everyday thing, you start to wake up every morning just waiting for your moment to meet it, if only so you can _stop_ waiting."

"I suppose," Harry said, because he wasn't sure what else to say.

"And once you step into that state of mind, that simultaneous dread and impatience, it becomes like your drug. You're glad to live another day because you get to feel that impatience again, that thrill of cheating death, and you feel the dread in the anticipation of finding there aren't any more days for you to live. But here, Potter, I feel _safe_." His face suddenly twisted in anger. "Do you know how _disgusting_ that is? I've been in withdrawal since the day I got here. And you want to ask me why I'm angry?" His face softened into something blank. "As long as I'm here, I'm waiting. And I _hate_ waiting." He straightened his collar with a sharp tug and tucked his wand into his pocket for appearances' sake.

Harry gazed at his hands, unsure of what to say. "We're more alike than you like to think, Hatake." He said eventually. Somehow it didn't seem rude when he said it, it didn't seem like the challenge it should have been. It was just a statement of fact.

"At least your enemy has a name," Kakashi said, "Whether or not anyone dares to say it."

Harry shrugged, uncomfortable. "I can say it."

"Yes." Kakashi replied simply. He thought about saying, _and you're a fool for it, _but he didn't. "Do you think McGonagall will let me wear my mask?" He already knew the answer to that.

"Doubt it," Harry said, obviously relieved to have moved away from such morose subjects. "But if you turned it black, it would go better with your dress robes. You could say it's part of the outfit."

Kakashi considered this. "I could." He took out his wand and twirled it at his reflection, pondering the best course of action.

The door opened and Ron stumbled his way inside, looking flustered and self-conscious. He glanced at Kakashi. "Well don't _you_ look dashing." He said with more than a hint of resentment. "Harry, our dates are downstairs, if the two of you are done comparing dress robes."

Kakashi smirked inwardly at the maroon-colored, frilly apparition of Ron.

"Right," Harry said, getting to his feet.

"You nervous yet, mate?"

"Bloody nervous," he agreed with a blustery grin. "You all right, mate?"

Kakashi had to look up to make sure Harry was talking to him. "Fine. Go with Ron, I'll be down later."

* * *

Kakashi didn't know quite how he felt about being in the middle of a stage, surrounded by young witches and wizards who looked every bit as ridiculous as he felt, staring down a very angry woman who seemed determined to make this dance a war of who-can-break-whose-toes-first, but he knew he didn't feel good about it.

And to make matters worse, Harry Potter was sending horrified glances his way, as though sending out some sort of plea to rescue him, and the French girl was shooting amorous glances at him.

He could only avoid so many loaded glances at once, and it seemed like the one opposite him was most determined to kill him, so he decided to pay attention to that one.

"I hate you," Astrid hissed, her pointy white teeth grinding behind her sloppily-applied red lipstick.

"I hate you too," Kakashi replied, and deftly moved his foot out of the way just milliseconds before the bunshin's pointy heel slammed gracefully down on the very same spot. "But I must applaud your choice of dress. How did you find it?"

"With no help from you, that's for sure." The Kage Bunshin grumbled.

"You're not doing the accent," Kakashi hissed. "Do the accent."

"It doesn't matter, no one's listening."

"Someone's _always_ listening." Kakashi threw a sidelong glance in Moody's direction.

Astrid heaved a sigh. "I found some Second Years. They were jealous of the ball, or something, and were more than happy to do all this." Astrid made a discreet gesture towards her face.

Kakashi concealed his grin. They shuffled across the floor in silence for awhile, and more couples were joining in so Astrid seemed to become more bold in her attempts to sabotage Kakashi's night. She spun him around in a sharp, overly-aggressive turn.

"At least let me lead," Kakashi grumbled. "I'm the man in this relationship."

Astrid made a throaty sound. "Wouldn't know it, from the way you dance."

"It wouldn't kill you to be more lady-like. People are going to think you're having me whipped."

"It's much more than that darling," Astrid quipped in a not entirely friendly voice, "I've been cuckolding you."

Kakashi snorted.

As the waltzed their way alongside Fleur Delacour and her partner, the Beaxbatons girl let a low whisper waft across Kakashi's ear, "Abbandonez votre prostituée et venez avec moi, mon cher."

Astrid shot her a withering glance. "You say you're the man, Kakashi, so stick up for me."

"She's not a harlot," Kakashi replied to Fleur, "though you wouldn't know it from her makeup, I agree."

"I didn't know you speak français, Monsieur. They say it is the language of love, you know." The French girl threw a tinkling laugh and waltzed away with her frowning partner.

"You're only making yourself look bad, Kakashi," Astrid pointed out. "You don't want this school thinking you've brought a whore to the Yule Ball, do you?"

Something fell in the pit of Kakashi's stomach as the brilliance of that idea struck him. Astrid heaved a dramatic sigh. "Ah, to be young and full of lost opportunities."

Kakashi let his dress shoe fall heavily on Astrid's toe. She swore.

"I'm the lady, you prick!" she reminded him.

"Then act like it."

"You have to act like it too for this to be at all convincing!"

Parvati Patil and a stricken-looking Harry sidled alongside the two of them. "Feuding already, are we? Tsk." She shook her head, sadly. "Astrid, wasn't it?"

The Kage Bunshin smiled dazzlingly. "Astrid Cornfield, pleased to meet you."

"And you were from Glasgow, wasn't that it?"

"Yes, Kakashi and I met on holiday there last year."

"Well, I'm very pleased to meet you," Parvati said, and the two of them floated away after the pleasantries had been exchanged.

"Your surname was Corn_wall_," Kakashi said angrily, "do try to get it right."

"Has it occurred to you yet that I'm intentionally sabotaging you?" Astrid retorted.

"I think we'd better take this out to the courtyard. People are looking at us."

"That's where everyone's going to snog and get it on with each other. Is that how you want to finish off the night? You pig, you hardly know me."

Kakashi rolled his eyes and pulled his Bunshin off towards the twinkling lights of the courtyard. "We've made our appearance, now it's not necessary for me to make a fool of the both of us a second longer." He pulled his date behind a relatively secluded bush. "Now go away."

"Gladly," Astrid hissed, and the muffled pop and billow of smoke suggested that the Kage Bunshin had disappeared into the night air. Kakashi let out a heavy breath.

He sucked it right back in again when Harry, Ron, and the Patil sisters appeared behind him.

"Kakashi," Harry said, as though he was surprised. "What happened to Astrid?"

Oh hell. The shinobi repressed a scowl. What, did they follow him out here? "It's all the spruce trees in there," he said, gesturing towards the continuing ball. The music had changed to something slower, more sensual in tempo. "She says she's allergic."

"I hope she's alright?"

Kakashi shrugged. "She's fine, but she sneezed and messed up her face. She's gone to the bathroom."

Ron snorted. Parvarti frowned and said, "Someone should go help her. Did she mention where she was off to?"

Kakashi's ears pricked as he heard something, a crack off in the woods beyond the outer courtyard. He stood still and silent for a moment, letting the sounds of the night waft across his senses. Somewhere, hooded and cloaked by the night but definitely there, Kakashi could just barely pick up the presence of a chakra signature.

"Kakashi?" Parvarti pressed.

"The bathroom," he snapped in reply. "I don't know which one." He headed cautiously in the direction of the noise and signature, barely aware of the bewildered stares on the back of his head.

"Kakashi? Where are you going?" Harry called after him.

He waved the inquiry away. "Don't follow me." Harry took an uncertain step after the shinobi, but Parvarti's hand on his arm stayed him.

Kakashi made his way through the pairs of amorous witches and witches, who mingled with the lit shrubs and statues of cherubs and snow creatures as though they themselves were part of the art. Kakashi paid them no mind, and indeed they returned the favor. The last couple at the edge of the courtyard didn't even notice as the silver-haired shinobi hopped lightly over the banister and landed with a grunt at the bottom of the short drop to the ground. As soon as they were out of his range of hearing, he clasped his hands together and summoned Pakkun.

"Hey, brat. How was your—" The pug began to say in greeting, but when he noticed the tension in Kakashi's posture he instantly dropped the cheery act. "What's going on?"

"There's something in the forest, Pakkun," Kakashi said, his eyes squinted with the effort of attempting to locate a hidden chakra signature after so many months without so much as sensing one.

"I don't smell any chakra," Pakkun said, but his fur was already standing on end.

"There was a signature here a few moments ago. There's definitely someone watching."

The nin-dog's heckles raised. "Well I don't smell it. But…hell."

"What?"

"Something smells like rot."

Kakashi wrinkled his own nose and looked out into the heavy darkness of the forest. The silence was growing to a roar inside Kakashi's head when Pakkun spoke again.

"Kakashi. To your right."

Their heads snapped almost in unison in that direction. The shinobi reached for the lone holster he had been able to conceal effectively inside his dress robes, the one at his ankle, and drew out the two kunai he had hidden there.

"Is it shinobi?" Kakashi whispered.

"No. There's no chakra in it." The pug started making retching noises. "But dear kami, it reeks. I might have to step out for this one, kid."

"Fine," Kakashi said. Once Pakkun had disappeared into a plume of smoke, Kakashi gathered up his breath, noting for the first time the rancid odor on the air, and said in a voice that commanded respect, "Whoever you are, you have three seconds to come into view, or you'll have a kunai through the throat." A bluff. Without the chakra signature to hone into the source of the reek, not even the most skilled shinobi would be able to pinpoint a mark with any dependability.

But there was no need to reveal the scope of his abilities, because a thin, frail, frightened voice wafted promptly from the trees.

"No need, boy, no need. My arthritic knees won't be able to make it over there in three seconds."

Kakashi stifled his surprise and watched as a stooped over, wizened and grayed old woman emerged into Kakashi's line of sight. "Who are you?" he demanded, stepping a step back as the full force of the scent of rotting decay hit his nose.

"Just an old hag out for a stroll." She was covered in a multitude of shawls and knit-together pieces of wool that must once have been vibrantly colored, but were now just a mass of varying grays, and they made the hunch in her back appear even more pronounced than it was. She seemed coated by a thin sheen of dust that rose from her body with every shuffling step she took. Hidden beneath folds of cloth, two sharp, intelligent eyes glinted chillingly.

"Are you lost?" Kakashi asked, trying to keep the snarl out of his voice.

"Oh, dreadfully lost." Came the frail reply. "Can you help me, young man?"

"I—"

"Why, what a nice young man. A little birdie told me you might come out to help me. And, here you are." Behind the folds of fabric, the old hag leered.

* * *

Oh noes, cliffie! The French part, if my 7 years of taking it has paid off, is roughly translated to "Abandon your prostitute (according to the internet; they don't teach us about whores in French class) and come with me, my darling." No, this is not going to be a pairing. Though I'm 98% sure no one has done Kakashi/Fleur. Please don't prove me wrong.


	25. Chapter 25

Hello readers, old and new, reviewers and otherwise! So most of you know that it's been forever since I updated this story… but recently I was in the mood to finish up this chapter, so here it is. I am very sorry to say that Pridian Moon is on indefinite hiatus. The fact is that my interests have shifted somewhat—this story has been a part of my life for about 5 years now, and I'm just not prepared to put forth the sort of time and commitment it will take to finish it. This doesn't mean it will NEVER be updated again—I will quite probably return to it, but please don't expect any sort of update anytime soon. It's just not a priority anymore. Also, I am moving it to the crossovers section of ffnet. For future reference.

As always, I love talking to my readers and I still check my ffnet account regularly, and I will reply to PMs and emails and such (if I haven't replied to you in the past it was because I was waiting to release the latest chapter, the latest of which of course didn't exist). If you have thoughts or perspectives on this story or are interested in "adopting" it, please don't hesitate to drop me a PM. Thanks for sticking with me all this time! I love you all!

NOTE: I have taken liberties with the HP-universe hag creatures. By my definition for this story, hags are semi-living, animated corpses and have the ability to control atmospheric moisture (fog), decomposition and rotting materials, and insects. I don't know how accurate this is to Rowling's version, so please suspend your disbelief at the door.

* * *

**Chapter 25**

Kakashi's hair stood on end as he faced the hag, his mind reeling and senses muddled from the overwhelming smell of rot. The shinobi's hands blurred as he formed the seals for an escape jutsu, retreating safely into a tree. The hag cackled as a dense fog rolled in through the trees, obscuring Kakashi's vision of her. He flicked a hail of kunai through the fog, hearing several embed in solid wood.

The hag just cackled. "No use hiding up in trees, boy; the moths can see you."

Kakashi froze as something fluttered past his face, then something small and solid hit his cheek. A moth, he realized with a feeling of dread, and he wasn't entirely surprised when, seconds later, a swarm of the insects exploded from the fog. Kakashi's hands flashed as he called a wind jutsu that tore through the crowd of moths and cleared a shallow bubble of fog around him. Kakashi swore. He sent four bunshin clones into the forest below. After some seconds of quiet, he heard the sound of kunai striking wood and the dull snap, then thump, which meant one blade had struck flesh. Another dozen of the same sound followed the first.

It was quiet. Kakashi listened intently through the fog, his ears twitching when he heard his bunshin alight on a neighboring tree branch.

"The threat has been neutralized," the clone reported, and Kakashi noticed the happy glow of blood in the bunshin's cheeks; he had always pondered at the way the act of killing seemed to bring such color to a shinobi's face.

"You confirmed the body?" Kakashi intoned.

The bunshin gestured to an indistinct pile of rags and grayish flesh just visible through the clearing fog. "It's confirmed," the bunshin answered in a clipped tone that was nothing but business. "The body has no pulse."

Kakashi nodded and dismissed his clones, casting a perplexed look towards the small heap of rags. What had the sinister old woman wanted from him? He had certainly done nothing to incite such a violent encounter. The silver-headed shinobi poked through the remains with distaste. The hag was definitely dead. It looked as though she had already been half-dead when Kakashi killed her, in fact. He shrugged, trying not to retch at the smell, and headed off towards the castle.

He blinked hard at the sting he felt below his eye, and brought a hand up to examine the small wound. It came away sticky with a trace of blood. He swore again. "Moths? Damn these wizards. Moths." He briefly examined the tiny gashes in the fabric of his very expensive dress robes, massaging the bridge of his nose between thumb and knuckle.

"Strange magic." he mused aloud. Why would the outlandish old woman send a swarm of razor-sharp moths to dispatch of him, an innocent ball-goer who had done nothing more provocative than venture into the woods, as opposed to some of the more potent magic Kakashi knew wizards were capable of?

A snide little voice with orange goggles wormed its way inside Kakashi's head. "Well, she was _old_," Obito pointed out from inside Kakashi's head, "she was probably suffering from violent dementia. Senility, you know. Though one would think she could have gotten her point across with a batch of fresh-baked cookies instead of, you know, jumping into the murder aspect of a relationship."

Kakashi crinkled his nose unhappily, but nonetheless allowed himself the guilty pleasure of conversing with the fake voice inside his head. "Why was she in the woods, anyway? And what could she possibly have wanted with me?"

"She was probably looking for a friend, 'Kashi. You know—someone just as dysfunctional in human relationships as herself. Case in point, _you_."

The voice quieted as Kakashi reached what should have been the edge of the forest. But instead of the expected scene of twinkling lights and amorous young witches and wizards, there stretched just another overgrown swatch of woods. Frowning again, he took a cautious step forward, wondering where he had taken a wrong turn. His foot caught on something as he did so, and then, in a flash, Kakashi's head collided with the leaves and he was looking at his feet pointed skyward, a gnarled tree root trailing from around one ankle. He barely had time to register the growing scent of rot before something dark and slender shot at him from the underbrush. He seized it before it could complete its beeline towards his face, but it crumbled in his fist. It was the remains of a tree root. Rotten through, but still sharp and strong enough to puncture skin with what was apparently a sharp end, for immediately after Kakashi felt something thick dig into the space above his collar bone, causing him to cringe in agony.

In the short time of that one gesture, two more spears of wood punctured him in the thigh and shoulder. His hands flew into the seals for a substitution jutsu, relocating Kakashi several yards away from the continuing attack.

Panting and clutching at his shoulder, Kakashi watched as the attacking spears of wood tore into the log that had taken his place. He huffed. What was going on? The hag, or whatever she was, had already been confirmed dead.

Then it struck him: the smell of decay, the state of decomposition of the body, the maggots…the hag was an animated corpse; she was already dead, and Kakashi couldn't kill her. He considered his options hurriedly. If he couldn't kill her, he could trap her, or run. Both were fallible. But he wanted information.

The hag's ghastly screech rose high over the trees. "Clever boy, not as clever as he thinks if he thinks running does him any good."

He looked to his feet and saw more dark tendrils advancing towards him, and the whole forest floor was carpeted by a writing layer of insects and decay. He retreated up a tree, trying not to notice the beetles and spiders that swarmed over his hands as soon as they hit the bark. "Is this an assassination?" Kakashi yelled into the blinding fog, "Or a random act of violence?" He pricked his ears, hoping the response would allow him to pinpoint the hag's location.

But the rattling voice that came back to him rolled off the trees from a hundred directions. "'Tis all the same to you, clever dearie. Now come down out the pricky trees like a good lad."

"Who sent you?" He leapt to a neighboring tree, a kunai around each index and middle finger. A spear of rot wood arced soundlessly past the branch he had just stood upon.

"Oooh, a very angry man, dearie. A very angry man. Is the clever lad dead yet?"

Kakashi tried to wipe the sweat from his eyes. His sense of smell was so overwhelmed with the earthy smell of decay, he couldn't find the direction it was coming from. The fog was rolling up around him again and the moths were suddenly fluttering around his face. The mist was thick enough to be visible, gathering up in heavy billowing waves that obscured Kakashi's vision completely and turned everything to a miasma. The air nearly dripped with it, making Kakashi feel clammy and wet even in the cold December air and binding his clothes against his body. His dress robes became heavy with moisture, dead weight upon his limbs.

He felt his seldom-used wand poking at his hip inside his pocket.

He let out a frustrated breath and created four dust bunshins. The branch dipped with their added weight.

"Find her, spread out." Kakashi told them under his breath. "When you find her, try to keep her occupied. Send me a signal pointing me in her direction." They all disappeared immediately into the mist, leaving Kakashi to wait with the insects and rot piling up around him. He counted the seconds in his head. What could kill an undead being? If stabbing it didn't bring it to its end, he would have to do something more drastic. Burn it to ashes, perhaps, or blow it apart. But the air was too moist to burn anything—he wouldn't be able to draw sufficient heat out of the air to create the katon jutsu. He chewed his lip.

Kakashi barely flinched as a kunai embedded itself into the tree trunk. Wasting no time, Kakashi wrenched it out of the bark and shot in the direction the kunai had come from. He came upon them in seconds—the fleeting figure of Kakashi's clone and the hulking shape of the hag standing out in the fog.

His hand dove into his kunai holster and came out with a length of steel wire, which he tied to the handles of two kunai. He let them fly at the hag.

The creature let loose a shriek that made Kakashi's ears ring as the wire wrapped firmly around her arms and legs, binding her in place.

"Stupid wicked boy!" she screeched. The moths, which he hadn't noticed in some minutes, began attacking him with renewed fury, but he disregarded their sting.

"Who sent you?" Kakashi rasped, a kunai in each hand.

But again a tendril had wrapped around his ankle, and before he could hack it away many more shot up to bind him to the place he was standing. A strangled yelp escaped him as something sharp pierced his leg. It was time to end this.

He formed the seals for a katon jutsu, hoping against hope it would work, but all it did was make a loud noise and engulf him in a cloud of hot steam. He ached for an exploding tag.

"Damnit." He swore as he felt another sharp organic thing pierce his body. The wounds were not debilitating on their own, but he was beginning to feel the fuzziness of loss of blood. Two of his clones were rounding on him, hacking away at the binding vines, but he barely noticed them. He reached for his wand.

The shinobi tore through the spells he had learned so far, suddenly wishing he had attended more of his classes. What was the name of the exploding spell? He had read it in _Curses and Counter Curses, vol. II._ The hag had cast off the steel wires that bound her and was lurching to her feet, a grotesque and unnatural sight that made Kakashi's eyes widen in alarm. He could see her eyes for the first time. They were shrunken like raisins in their orbs and keenly focused on him.

It came to him. "_Expulso!_" The explosion that ensued deafened and blinded him for a few seconds. The shockwave hit him squarely in the chest, wrenching him painfully out of the confines of the tangles that had wrapped around his legs and throwing him flat on his back to the ground. When the brightness faded from his eyes, he saw the mass that was the hag, now considerably more ragged and smoking, approaching him still.

"_Expulso!" _He turned away this time, but the blast still deafened him, as though the explosion had stolen and devoured all the sound in the world. The hag was still moving. So again, and twice more, Kakashi cast the spell, until all that was left of his adversary was a scattering of smoking rags.

Kakashi pushed himself to his feet and the world lurched, but he stayed upright. His feet were lead weights at the bottom of his legs, and no more graceful. His chakra was noticeably depleted.

Teetering, and clutching at his wounds, he sent his remaining clone up into a high tree to spot the edge of the forest, and started off that way. He had only been walking minutes before he saw the light of the edge of the forest glowing through the trees.

Drawn by the sound of the explosions, no less than two dozen students and professors were gathered at the edge of the forest when he emerged from the darkness. Gasps and hushed voices sounded around him, and he was vaguely aware of well-intentioned fingers grasping at his robes, but he pushed them all off, intending to make his way—however slow it had to be—up through the castle and to bed.

All was in a haze, a swirl of darkness and colors of bright ball gown dresses and twinkling lights that danced in the hedges. His limbs were heavy, the tips of his fingers numb and stiff from the loss of chakra and blood. He could hardly believe it. A number had been done on Hatake Kakashi. And by an old half-dead woman, no less. Pakkun would never let him live this down.

"Kakashi Hatake! What in Merlin's name have you _done?_" Kakashi knew that shriek. Professor McGonagall was upon him suddenly, and he knew his bid for a night without harassment was up. His feet left the ground and he was removed to the infirmary, and he didn't even have the energy to raise a proper hell about it.

* * *

Boxing Day and the day following were spent rather listlessly in the hospital wing, full of splints and bandages and foul-tasting potions that never seemed to do what they were supposed to, and upon bothering to become lucid Kakashi was very much surprised and somewhat flummoxed to find a modest collection of wrapped packages piled on his bedside table.

"That nice girl Hermione brought them over," Madame Pomfrey tutted—she was always _tutting_ at him, "Along with Harry Potter and their friend Ronald. It was _very_ kind of them, dear. They said you hadn't even noticed they were there Christmas morning and they wanted to make sure you had them before the holidays were over. It was _very_ nice of them, wasn't it?"

Kakashi only grunted, which seemed to peeve Madame Pomfrey, so she went away, which suited him just fine. He looked at his pile for a little while before opening its contents, and even slept for a little while, too, until he felt the time was right to investigate further.

None of them were bombs.

After having made this important assessment, Kakashi felt confident enough to work his stiff and still somewhat bruised fingers under the wrappings of the first package. It was from a Beauxbatons girl with an utterly unpronounceable name, and it was a bottle of fine French _vin rouge, _with love note attached. Kakashi harrumphed at it and moved on to the next one.

There were several gifts from admirers that Kakashi didn't know he had and was none too pleased to find out about, and a book from the Granger girl, predictably. There was also a rather delicious-looking and magically still-warm pie from a Mrs. Weasley—Ronald's mother, Kakashi remembered, and a Potter Stinks badge from some jokester.

All in all, it wasn't the worst Boxing Day Kakashi had ever had. It really wasn't. But he was glad to be rid of the hospital wing when he was finally allowed to leave nearly two days later, on threat of severe bodily harm should they keep him any longer.

Whispers seemed to follow him through the hallways after that. Kakashi learned that he had made somewhat of a spectacle on the night of the Yule Ball, having apparently burst from the underbrush looking half-dead, bloodied, and slightly singed, and that a thorough investigation was being carried out on the remains of the hag. He was interrogated by officials and students alike, and even the normally unimpressed Reeta Skeeter deigned to submit Kakashi to a comprehensive—and completely falsified on Kakashi's part—interview.

The evening of his release found him reclining, somewhat stiffly, in a common room armchair by the fire, a letter from Gai in one hand and kunai spinning in the other. He was vaguely aware of the murmurings of his peers from across the room.

"Are you feeling better, Kakashi-san?"

Kakashi started. He wasn't accustomed to all this earnest, fretful attention from his peers, and it was beginning to make him uncomfortable.

"You really should put that away," the worry was evident in Hermione's voice as she and her two friends took it upon themselves to settle in adjacent chairs to Kakashi's. "Someone might get hurt."

He shot her a glower.

"He's just been attacked by a bloody hag, Hermione," Ron said out of the corner of his mouth. "Let him spin his knife if it makes him feel better."

Kakashi snorted. "I don't need to be made to _feel_ better, Weasley. I'm spinning my kunai because Professor McGonagall seems to feel that punishing me is no longer sporting, so I can bring out my weapons with impunity. For now."

"Oh." Ron shut his mouth.

"Hatake," Harry spoke up in that serious way of his. "We just wanted to know if you know what happened."

"Well of course I know what happened. I was there, wasn't I?"

"But Kakashi-san, hags don't normally go that close to Hogwarts from the Forbidden Forest. And they certainly don't attack students unprovoked. It says so in _Hogwarts, A History. _That hag attacked you for a reason."

"Mm. And I suppose you want me to tell you who sent it, so you can figure out if it might be a threat to a certain other someone?" He sent a deadpan glance in Harry's direction.

Hermione looked at him somewhat guiltily.

"Stop it," Harry said, "It's a valid concern."

"I never said it wasn't. Well, I don't know, Potter. I'm fairly certain _someone_ sent it after me. But I don't know who, and I don't know why—there was no time to torture it out of her, you see, before I was forced to blow her up—so there's really no point asking me."

"Did she say anything useful at all?"

Kakashi looked at the girl sidelong. What was the use of being confrontational anymore? All in all, Kakashi realized, it really was somewhat exhausting to be so ill-tempered and unpleasant to be around all the time. The truth always took less breath than lies. And what sort of quarrel did he have with Potter and his friends that he should go to all the trouble to withhold information from them just because he could? He let out a frustrated breath. "All she said was that it was a '_very angry man_.' I really don't know anything else." He folded up the letter from Gai—which was not a Howler, and which proclaimed that the war had not yet come to an end—and straightened himself up. "I'm going to bed, now, if that's alright with you. My head is hurting from all those potion fumes that Pomfrey woman gave me. I think they got into my mask."

Harry got to his feet, as though prepared to seize Kakashi's arm should he suddenly collapse. Kakashi gave him a tired glare. "Look Hatake, if you need anything, let someone know, will you? I know you don't like to do that sort of thing but you nearly _died_, so don't be ridiculous."

Kakashi snorted. "I didn't nearly die. Don't be so dramatic."

"You fought a _hag_."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I nearly died—I've been in dozens of closer calls than that. I just had a bit of trouble. It's very hard to find a hag in the woods, apparently." Kakashi made his way stiffly to the stairs.

"Goodnight, then." Hermione called after him. "If you need _anything_—"

"I _know_." Kakashi snapped. He disappeared up the spiral staircase.

Ron smirked. "Cranky as ever."

"Honestly, Ron, you'd be cranky too." Hermione looked somewhat ruffled. She lowered her voice. "Harry, what did you tell Sirius?"

He shrugged. "I just told him the truth. He was concerned, of course. Wants me not to leave the castle." He laughed uneasily. "He still doesn't trust Hatake. He seems to think he set the whole thing up."

Hermione wrung her hands in her lap. "But why? What motivation could he possibly have to set something like that up? You know he hates attention."

"Who knows?" Ron said. "His reasons have never made sense since the moment he got here. No reason for them to start now."

Hermione ignored him. "You were there, weren't you, just before he went into the forest. Did he say anything odd?"

"He barely said anything. Just went gallivanting off somewhere, told us not to follow him."

Harry ran a hand through his mop of hair. "We should have stopped him."

The red-haired boy snorted. "You know perfectly well he wouldn't've let us. Bloody well may have stabbed us before he let us stop him."

"What do you think happened to his date? Astrid, wasn't it?" Hermione said. "I hope she wasn't with him."

"He said she had gone to the bathroom—I don't think she was around when he was attacked."

Hermione looked somewhat bothered. "It seems odd that she didn't stay to visit him in the hospital."

Harry just grunted. A silence stretched between them, so the soft conversations between other students in the common room came into focus—they were all about homework and gossip and other things that seemed to magnify the weight on Harry's own shoulders. The night outside was gloomy and starless, so the vast expanse of snow that covered the grounds outside the window seemed flat and gray. "I still don't think Hatake set it up." Harry said after several moments. The fire crackled off to the side, as though in agreement. "And another thing, if the attack _was_ somehow orchestrated by someone, I don't think it was aimed at me."

"But how can you say that for sure, Harry? Kakashi doesn't have anyone after him, not like you—"

"But he _does_. He's got enemies just like I do. He told me, remember? It's supposed to be some great secret, but he told me anyway. Probably to make a point."

"But not in this _hemisphere_." Hermione took a breath, lowering her voice another notch. "The man who is supposedly after Kakashi-san should still be thousands of miles away. And if he isn't, if he somehow discovered his location, why would he send a magical creature after Kakashi instead of coming after him with his own Eastern magic? It doesn't make any sense."

Ron chortled suddenly.

"Honestly, Ron, I don't see what could possibly be funny—"

"I was just thinking that maybe it was one of Harry's raving fans, trying to get Hatake out of the way. For the tournament, you know." He snickered. "Makes a bit of a statement, doesn't it? Send a horrible ugly hag to make fillet out of the competition."

No one said anything for a moment. Hermione chewed her lip.

"Oh come on." Harry tried not to look too scandalized. "You can't possibly be _considering_ that. I don't have any raving fans." Ron gave his friend a look that spoke volumes to the contrary.

"Well, what other explanations do we have?"

"Sirius has another theory." Harry said. Hermione raised a brow at him. "He's been tracking this giant bird for awhile now. Some sort of great hawk. He think it's someone's animagus. He's been talking to it, too, in his own animagus form."

"He's been _talking_ to it?"

"Yes. And Sirius says that all he's been able to figure out is that the bird is not from 'around here,' but he doesn't know what that means yet. He says it was here on the night of the Yule Ball."

No one said anything for a few moments. Finally, Hermione spoke. "Well. That does seem suspicious, doesn't it?"

* * *

All eyes were on him. And there was that bulbous, swiveling, blue one planted in the middle of Mad-Eye Moody's ruined face, looking directly at him. "Great Northern Hags." The professor said, emphasizing each word with a tap of the chalk under each corresponding word on the chalk board. "Now we all know what happened this Christmas Day. Our own exchange student from the East, Kakashi Hatake, has acquired the prodigious distinction to be the first student _ever_ to be attacked by this brand of hag on Hogwarts' grounds."

That eye settled on him once again. It took all the will power in Kakashi's body to keep from twitching—or running out the door.

"Hags of this sort are normally found to the north. They use their control of atmospheric moisture—that's fog for the dullards of you lot—and an _exceptionally_ strong aroma to muddle the victim's senses and attack, eviscerate, and devour him. So. Who can tell me what Mr. Hatake here did _right?_"

Hermione raised her hand. "Excuse me professor, but I thought the investigation is still ongoing, surely we shouldn't be talking about it like th—"

"_Constant vigilance!_" Moody barked, his gravelly voice reverberating oppressively around the classroom. "What's more important to you, Granger? A dogmatic admiration for administrative red tape? Or the _truth_? The truth, which may one day be your only source of aid, your only ray of light in a very, _very_ dark place." He looked at her questioningly.

"Um, I suppose—"

"Of course the truth is more important!" he bellowed. Hermione shot a horrified look at Harry. "Never forget that, you students." He paused for effect. "So! Pray tell, who can tell me what Mr. Hatake did right?"

Gazes were leveled uncomfortably at feet and at various corners of the room. Kakashi sat with his arms crossed over his chest, slouched very low in his seat, trying very much to look unbothered by this developing discussion of his fighting abilities.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin. He _kept his head! _Didn't you, Hatake? You didn't run screaming into the forest, you didn't fall sobbing to the dirt, and you didn't stop to pray to whatever deity you may or may not pay lip-service to. No. You kept quiet and you listened, didn't you boy? Because listening was the one sense the hag allowed you." His eyes fell piercingly on Kakashi's once again. "Isn't that right?"

"No." Kakashi said. "First I ran, and_ then_ I listened."

For a moment, the room held its breath as a look of anger settled momentarily on Mad Eye Moody's face. But it passed as quickly as it had appeared. "Fair enough. And I'll overlook your cheekiness, too. So the first order of business was to tip the scales in Hatake's direction by disappearing from view. But Mr. Hatake didn't know that hags have an exceptional sense of smell, and that they can use the forest insects as their eyes and ears. So in fact what he really did was make his first mistake. Do you see how important it is to know your enemy, students?"

A few heads bobbed, which seemed to satisfy the auror.

"His mistake was to allow the Hag to leave his sight. So what was your strategy, Hatake? I understand you have a preference for your eastern magic. Your _jutsu_, I think they call it."

Kakashi scowled. This discussion was beginning to cross over into unwelcome territory. "I didn't have a strategy. I shot a few spells into the forest as I ran away. It was pure luck—and in a life-or-death situation, luck is more powerful than knowledge any day."

"That's true, but luck is a fickle creature liable to betray you as quick as the wind. And don't lie, boy. I have a talent for detecting liars. You don't believe in luck, and you certainly wouldn't have based your strategy on it. Who can guess what Hatake's first instinct would have been?"

Hermione raised a tenuous hand. "If I had been him, I suppose I would have started with fire."

"Go on."

"Well, I would think corpses—I suppose that's what hags are, in essence—really aren't terribly vulnerable to…_traditional_ means of killing things; that is, traumatic flesh injury that would make a normal living being lose blood. But they can be burned."

"That's very correct, Miss Granger. But there Hatake made a second mistake—or at least an oversight. Fire spells and indeed fire jutsu as well would both have been ineffective in the dense atmosphere of moisture the hag would have created around herself. So he was without strategies on the two most important counts: where the hag was, and what he could do to dispatch her."

Kakashi met Moody's intense gaze with defiance.

"So Hatake. The odds were very much against you. I'm really quite curious, so why don't you enlighten us all—what did you do? You've been keeping it very much a secret."

Kakashi's face said clearly that his lips were firmly buttoned under the dark material of his mask.

"Oh, come along, boy. No harm in saying. I'd wager quite a lot of these students could really learn from this; you could even inspire one of them to save his own life one day."

The shinobi's silence filled the room for a few uncomfortable moments. "Trade secrets, Professor."

The auror's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Certainly. You make no secret of your stinginess with your information. But indulge us. Was it jutsu? Or was it magic?"

"I don't remember. Took a nasty bonk on the head, you know."

"This is new ground you're treading, Hatake. Only a few times in history have Eastern and Western magic come together in a man this way. Surely you can indulge the little scientists in us all, and give us an insight into the workings of the two within your fighting style."

The shinobi's palms had become slick with sweat. Something seemed off about this conversation—something even beyond the invasive subject matter. The class could sense it too, he knew, the way they all sat stiffly in their seats, even the inquisitive ones seeming to show more anxiety than the sort of intense curiosity Moody was clearly trying to inspire in them. The silence lingered heavily in the room, seeming to distort the space between Kakashi and Moody's piercing magical eye.

"Fine." The auror's voice snapped them back to reality. "You tell us when you're ready, lad. I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable." He turned back to the chalk board. "The _expulso_ curse. A fitting choice on Hatake's part to dispose of his attacker—it produces a strong explosion without the use of fire or any heat-based source, which would have failed against the hag for reasons already stated. Who can tell me the source of the _expulso's_ power?"

"It creates a powerful pressure difference within the target, Professor. The explosion occurs when the target's mass attempts to reestablish its equilibrium."

"That's correct, Granger. And since Hatake seems to have brought _expulso_ into style, that's what we'll be working on today. Wands out, everyone, and partner up."

In the ensuing shuffling of papers and book bags, Kakashi made a move towards the door.

"Trying to make an early escape, are we lad?" Predictably, he was intercepted.

"I'm feeling slightly ill, sir." Kakashi drawled.

"Ah yes. You're still looking a bit green about the old gills, as they say. Perhaps a trip to the hospital wing is in order."

The shinobi nodded.

"Well. Off with you, then. We need you in fine fighting condition for the second task. Got any sort of plan yet?"

"Not yet. I still have time for that. Nearly two months still."

"Right." The auror clapped a large hand on Kakashi's back, nearly knocking him off his feet. "Well. Keep at it, boy. And if you feel the urge to reveal your secrets, you know where to find me." The auror flashed a crooked smile and let Kakashi go gratefully on his way.

The Forbidden Forest was Kakashi's immediate destination. He went straight to the spot of his attack, without even a cloak to protect him from the bitter winter cold. There was not a trace of what had transpired there just a few days ago save for a few singed trees. His hands flew together into the seals for a summoning jutsu and slammed them to the ground, no longer caring that his chakra was still too low for comfort. This attack had left him vulnerable—if he were to be involved in another fight for his life, he would not survive it without sufficient chakra.

"Oh good, you're alive."

"No thanks to you, Pakkun." Kakashi said, standing over the small dog that had materialized on the ground by his feet.

"You don't look too good, brat. Don't tell me that creature in the forest got the better of you."

"The hag? No. She was a challenge after I lost sight of her but it was nothing I couldn't—"

Pakkun cut him off with that growling guffaw of his. "Well I was talking about your date, 'Kashi. Who were _you_ talking about?"

Kakashi scowled. "I appreciate the humor, but I haven't summoned you to exchange jokes."

"Right. Ever the stoic, Hatake. So what is it you want me to do?"

"Someone's after me, and I want to know who it is. There was chakra in this area just before I was attacked and it could still be here. I want you to find it."

The pug looked at him with doleful eyes. "Well, don't get your hopes up. Remember last time? I chased that scent halfway across Britain and it still came to nothing. Do you have anywhere for me to _start_?"

"I have a hunch."

"Pfft. Well. I guess that's better than nothing. Spill it."

"Start by watching Mad-Eye Moody. See if he ever crosses paths with our shinobi friend. And don't check up with me until you find something—you could be tracked."

"Will do. And hey, take care of yourself, kid." With that the pug disappeared into the forest, and Kakashi was left alone with the silence of the trees.

* * *

A/N Well, that's it for now. The last part of this chapter was really challenging for me for some reason, so I'm not really satisfied with it. But I hope you all didn't think it was too terrible. (It was one of those 4 AM sections, you know the ones). Goodbye for now, please review, and a very fond and sincere thank you for reading!


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